


(Un)holy Light

by Sforzie



Category: Final Fantasy IX, Final Fantasy VI
Genre: Crossover, Fantasy Violence, M/M, Magic, Rape/Non-con Elements, Stockholm Syndrome, Weird Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-09
Updated: 2014-09-11
Packaged: 2018-02-08 04:00:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 73,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1925913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sforzie/pseuds/Sforzie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A homesick Kuja uses a mysterious magic spell in an attempt to make his way back to Terra. What he finds instead is a dead world ruled over by a mad god...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: The characters and settings from Final Fantasy VI and Final Fantasy IX that appear in this work of fiction are property of Square Enix since the years 1994 and 2000, respectively. This piece of fanfiction was written by and belongs to Sforzie in 2007.

(Un)holy Light  
Chapter 1

It was a brilliantly sunny day in the desert. The kind of day where people just wanted to lie out in the sun, soaking in its pleasant warmth and forget about the kinds of miserable things that happened during the winter months. It was the kind of day, actually, that Kuja hated. He had been coming to Gaia for some time now, but still hadn’t gotten used to the brightness of places that weren’t on the Mist Continent. On Terra everything had been muted and blue and much easier on his eyes. He was worried about developing wrinkles here on Gaia because he spent so much time squinting. And Garland had already told him to shut up and stop worrying about the wrinkles, anyways.

Sunburn was completely different issue. Kuja’s skin was obnoxiously fair, unused to the undiffused glare of the sun on Gaia, and he had to keep covered up when traveling around to avoid getting burnt. He’d learned his lesson the summer before, when he’d dozed off in the sun and gotten such a bad burn that he’d ended up being sent back to the medical lab in Bran Bal.  
So today, in its summer brilliance, Kuja was hiding out underground in the desert palace. Garland had marked the place on a map for Kuja on his seventeenth birthday, as a sort of present to the young Genome. Kuja had spent much of his allowance during the last few months in refurbishing the old underground palace.

Kuja had gone to the surface for just long enough to shade his eyes from the shimmer on the desert sands, and decide that it was far too hot out to do any outside work today. He hated the flow of time on this planet. Its seasons were a particular pain in the ass, the young Genome thought. Who honestly thought that it was a good idea to have things hot for part of the year, then pleasant, then terribly cold, then pleasant again, and then back to being hot again? An endless miserable cycle. It was part of the deal of saving Terra, he knew, but it was still hard to come to terms with. He’d spent his first fourteen or so years on Terra, and there on Terra nearly everything was dead, time included. Days had slipped by in a cerulean blur, with night coming only as an occasional forced dimming of the light. Sleep was pointless, there was just too much work to be done.

But here on Gaia there was life, and day and night. And seasons, those obnoxious things that made it nearly impossible to compose a proper functioning wardrobe. All the same, Kuja had decided over the last two or three years that Gaia wasn’t really all that bad a place to take over. From what he’d seen in the old record books, other planets that Garland had considered hadn’t had nearly the same pretty landscapes or wide variety of native flora and fauna. There were an awful lot of damned mountains on this planet, though, and Kuja had decided he didn’t really like mountains all that much either. They were too big and too tall and imposing, and the air at the top of the biggest was so thin that he’d wound up getting sick while visiting them.

“And so here I sit, like a mole in his hole,” Kuja muttered to himself. He paced the long quiet halls of the desert palace. There were still a few chinks in the old ceilings, and he found himself occasionally stopping to consider the sunlight and sand creeping in. He would have to get more funds from Garland to finish repairs on the palace. That would have to wait, though, as Garland wasn’t due back until the beginning of winter. Kuja was supposed to be investigating things over on the Mist continent, but he’d gotten bored with that again. What was the big rush, anyways? It’s not like he or Garland of any of the other Genomes would be dying any time soon, after all.

“Oh well.” Kuja turned down a path and headed for the library. Some of the books were the abandoned property of the original owner of the palace (whoever that had been). A few shelves were research books that Garland had brought here with the hopes that Kuja might stop dawdling to do his job. The rest of the books were tomes that the youth had picked up while on the Mist continent. There were books of plays, some of poetry, a few trashy romance novels that he’d been given by an old woman in Dali... Quite the assortment of entertainment, really, and Kuja was much more inclined to read a five hundred year old book of Lord Avon’s plays than page through a massive volume about the ancient government systems of Terra.

Who cared about the government of a dead world, after all? And Terra was as dead as they came: blue and still and seemingly resting perpetually on the edge of something happening. But it was all just decay.

Kuja sat on the floor in front of one the shelves. His tail curled neatly behind him.

“What to read today...” He scanned the covers. Something by Lord Avon? No, he’d done that yesterday. The sun had been too bright the day before, too. (It was a pity, Kuja thought, that the Iifa tree had not managed to cover more of the world with Mist. He would have been able to go out and get a lot more work done if this were the case. Oh well.) He scanned past the titles of poetry compilations that he’d already read three or four times each. No, none of this was going to do today.

Kuja got back to his feet, walking down the length of the bottom shelving unit, and then nimbly climbing the ladder that led to higher levels in the library. Second level was more of Garland’s books, and no, he’d already decided he wanted no part in reading that boring drivel today. Third level was a mishmash of things, but he’d gone through all of that and discounted its worthiness as reading material two weeks ago when it had decided to rain in--of all places--the desert.

Gaia really was a stupid place sometimes.

Kuja reached the top level of the library, tail swinging behind him for balance as he toed his way down the length of the shelves. He was barefoot, as usual, and his toes clutched habitually at the smooth stone and enamel that covered the floors of the palace. It was cool and somewhat slick beneath his feet. Aside from the shelves themselves, there was nothing for him to hold onto up here. Like all good terrestrial animals, Genomes were encoded with a certain fear of heights, and Kuja was no exception. It was one thing to be encased in the safety of an airship high above the clouds, and another to be standing on a narrow ledge some twenty or thirty feet above the base level with the only thing around to end one’s fall being the cold hard floor.

Kuja leaned a bit and peered down at the tile below. He reeled for a moment, arching back toward the books, tail twisting out behind him into oblivion.

He gasped, and the sound echoed. Kuja suddenly found himself feeling the weight of his singularity in the palace pressing down on his shoulders. He was utterly alone here, and cut off from contact with Garland or anyone else who might have been able to grant him some measure of assistance.

Kuja’s slender fingers clenched painfully on the nearest shelf. He opened his eyes and was met with a line of unfamiliar books. These must have been the aged tomes left behind by the mysterious previous owner of the palace. (Who built a palace underneath a desert, anyways?) He stared at the spines presented to him, feeling stupid for a moment because he couldn’t make out the titles. They were written in some old version of the native Gaian tongue, he realized. He managed to piece together enough to figure out that most of the books here were about the care of chocobos.

A stab of annoyance jabbed into his brain, just behind his right eye. All this trouble, for a bunch of books about chocobos! What nonsense! Kuja turned carefully around and started to creep back to the ladder.

A gleam of gold on a black leather spine caught Kuja’s attention. He stopped to consider it.

“Yone Sheft and...” It was something about magic, Kuja concluded. One of the latter words on the title was ‘magic’, at the least. Perhaps this was something worth reading? He was going to tuck the book underneath his arm, but it was quite heavy. Kuja decided against making the perilous trip back down with the book in tow, and chucked it over the side of the library shelves. It landed with a heavy, echoing thud on the tile below. Kuja made his way down at collected the book. He felt a strange, slight thrill of pleasure when he noticed a faint web of cracks emanating from the spot where the thick book had impacted the tile.

After downing a glass of Dalian brandy to calm his nerves, Kuja toted his newest treasure off to what was currently serving as his bedroom. He flopped down on the bed, swinging his legs a bit as he cracked open the old book. To his surprise, the pages were creamy and crisp, as if the book had never been opened before. But no, as he flipped through he noticed small notations on some of the pages. They were written in a fading purple ink. The notes were inscribed in a still old but much more legible version of Gaian.

This was indeed, as the young Genome had suspected, a book about magic. He swung his legs again, feeling a bubble of excitement in his stomach that had nothing to do with the brandy. He knew that Garland had made him with the capacity of performing all sorts of magic. But the old man remained reluctant to reveal all the secrets of magic to Kuja, even as the young man approached his eighteenth birthday.

“Miserable old fart,” Kuja said, chin pressed into his palm. His sky blue eyes focused on the page. There was an excited twitch to the end of his tail as he continued paging through the tome, hoping that the old translator had inscribed something that Kuja might actually be able to use.

After paging for nearly an hour, Kuja found something. It was a single page, covered in all sorts of inscriptions. It seemed that the whole page had been translated. He studied the handwriting, reading it carefully.

The “Yone Sheft” again.

“Zona Shift,” Kuja read to himself. “This ancient magic can be used to open a gate between worlds...” His tail again twitched excitedly. Open a gate between worlds? Perhaps this could be useful. He continued reading the notations. Apparently this Zona Shift magic worked quite similarly to the magic that Garland used to open the teleporter between Terra and Gaia. Kuja smiled. If he figured out how to work the Zona Shift, he might be able to get back to Terra without the old man’s help. Sure, it would probably piss off Garland something awful, but that idea had a certain charm to it as well.

“Certainly worth looking into.”

Kuja set off to find his notes about the ancient Gaian language.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Two weeks of unbearably sunny weather and three bottles of Dalian brandy later, Kuja had finished his interpretations on the aged book. The Zona Shift magic was straightforward enough to perform, it seemed. It just required the proper incantations and fuel for the magic to work. This gave the young man some pause.

“I’m just not good enough yet,” Kuja said. He sat at his dressing table and stared at his reflection. Pretty and pale, just how he liked it. His face was finally losing its last vestiges of youthful softness, and the polished glamour of adulthood was letting itself been seen. His hair was soft, silvery violet in color, and it reached just a bit past his slender shoulders. A trio of feathers sprouted from his crown. (Kuja had never been able to get Garland to tell him what the feathers were for.) He was slender and built like an acrobat.

Except for the hips. His hips were ridiculously curvy, especially for a boy. He had gotten used to people confusing him for a girl while he traveled around Gaia. It was usually easier to just not argue with the peasants. He was superior to them all, so he shouldn’t have to bother with it.

“That’s right, I’m superior,” Kuja said to his reflection. He looked at his hands, studying the slender fingers and the carefully trimmed nails. These were his weapons, he just had to learn how to use them. Garland had only deigned so far to teach him the casting of basic spells like Fire and Thunder. He’d had to get on Garland’s nerves quite a bit for the old man to bother teaching him something more advanced like Break.

But it all should still work easily enough. For such an advanced spell, the instructions in the book had been quite simple. The magic circle to be drawn was included on the facing page, and the incantations were all there. He’d managed to find the appropriate magic stones for the circle, too. One of them had come all the way from some place called Daguerro, and had been quite expensive. It was a pretty blue color, though, and Kuja quite liked it. If this Zona Shift turned out to be a complete flop, then he might at least be able to make a nice pendant out of it.  
Even though Kuja was still a budding sorcerer, he was quite certain that if he followed the instructions exactly that everything should go just fine. It was a little risky, sure, but Kuja was ready to try anything at this point to get away from the headaching lively clamor of Gaia. His heart longed for the dead world that was his birthplace. 

“Time to go home to Terra,” Kuja said. He stood, picking up the book in one hand and a small bag in the other. Earlier in the day he had collected a few things that he wanted to take with him back to Terra. There was no guarantee that Garland wouldn’t just turn around and send him right back to Gaia, but it couldn’t really hurt to have his favorite things with him.

 

Kuja made his way down the empty, echoing hallways of the desert palace. He stopped in front of a statue. It was in the form of an angel, its wings arched and arms lifted to the sands above. Its head was tilted at what looked like a painful angle. The Genome stopped, looking around to make sure there wasn’t anyone looking. It was a useless, nervous motion, he knew, but he couldn’t help but do it anyways. The coast was clear, and Kuja reached up to the statue. He shifted the head just a bit counterclockwise. An opening appeared in the wall behind the statue, just between two perpetually lit candles. Kuja slipped inside, and the entry disappeared behind him. That was always unsettling, but the hidden door was easy enough to open from the inside.

He made his way down a dim tunnel, lead only by the light coming at its end. There he arrived at a small, cramped chamber. He’d discovered this place some months before while studying an old architectural map of the palace.

The walls of the chamber were illuminated by candles. Kuja wasn’t sure what magic kept them constantly lit, or what kept them from smoking the place up, but he didn’t really mind either. The stone floor of the chamber was currently decorated by a magic circle drawn out in limestone. It had taken him the better part of the previous afternoon to get it all drawn out properly. The angles in such an elaborate magic circle had to be measured out with the utmost care, after all. An error in such a circle could cause a spell to backfire upon casting and kill its caster. Newer magics had a tendency to include the parameters of a magic circle into its incantation, so the circles were unneeded. Older magic like this was tricky and cumbersome.

“But worth it,” Kuja said, studying the floor. He opened the book again, crouching and resting it on his knees. He rechecked the circle for probably the twentieth time, and decided that there was nothing really that could be done to improve it. Kuja retrieved four magic stones, and set about putting them into place. Aquamarine to the north, amber to the south, smoky quartz to the west, and an unblemished and clear piece of quartz to the east. Even as Kuja set the last stone into place, he felt a strange shift along the surface of the magic circle. The chalk lines shimmered and grew warm beneath the Genome’s hands.

He smiled, rising to his feet. Everything was going as it should.

Kuja set the book down and stepped onto the circle. He placed his feet in the spots indicated by the book, and closed his eyes. As he started to recite the incantation, he thought of his destination. He filled his mind with thoughts of that still place, where the wind did nor blow and neither time nor water flowed.

He thought of home.

 

There had been a soft ping in his ears as the Zona Shift magic activated. Even through his closed eyes he could see the brilliant light that filled the chamber. Kuja felt a sensation not altogether unlike the teleporters on Terra, but still somewhat different. There was the usual pressure on his sinuses, at least. The ground shifted a bit underneath his feet. His right foot shifted just a bit as the spell faded, and he heard the scuff of boot bottom on rough ground. 

Rough ground? Where was there rough ground on Terra?

He inhaled sharply, opening his eyes. Both senses simultaneously assaulted him with the same message:

The Zona Shift had misfired.

The air that entered his nose was unusually dry and filled with the smell of rot. Kuja’s nose wrinkled even as he looked around. The landscape was utterly alien to him. Had he accidentally landed on some unfamiliar part of Gaia? This was possible. He’d studied the maps of the planet quite thoroughly, and there were vast tracts on the continents of the western hemisphere that had simply been marked as either “unexplored” or “information unavailable.” Kuja had long suspected that Garland was hiding something there, though what it was he had no idea. Maybe the Zona Shift had tapped into a hidden teleporter network on one of these continents? This was possible too.

But then what was that awful smell? He knew what death smelled like, but this was more the stench of death left long unburied and uncleansed. It was very unpleasant, and Kuja was surprised that the monsters hadn’t already disposed of the refuse.

The area around him was barren. There was a dry, cold wind struggling to blow from some unknown direction. The sky overhead was dark with heavy clouds that seemed out of place with the otherwise parched atmosphere. The sun was completely blocked, and Kuja found himself unable to determine which was was north.

“Bother,” Kuja said. His voice immediately disappeared into the dead air, and his nose and throat filled with dust. He coughed, covering his mouth.

Further surveying of his surroundings showed a limping line of mountains to his... well, to his front side. They wandered unimpressively off to the horizon. There seemed to be a glimmer of water in that direction as well, but Kuja couldn’t be certain. Far off in the distance, to his left, there rose the strange spire of a massive tower. At least, from this distance Kuja could only imagine that it was a tower and not some bizarre natural formation. As he combed his memory for the existence of such a structure on Gaia, his feet started moving in the direction of the watery glimmer.

 

There was a warped delight in the pale blue eyes that stared out at the barren landscape below. From here at the top of his tower he could see everything. Well, everything within a few hundred miles. All the interesting, obnoxiously resilient people were within his viewing range, at the least, and that was all he needed.

“Uwee...” He moved from one window to another on the other side of the room. Here to the south it was raining. “Perfect!” The man giggled, raising a hand to the window. He was momentarily distracted by the gleam of red at the end of his fingers. “Oh, bother, when did I chip my nail?” He narrowed his eyes at the town dimly visible in the distance. “Albrook! This is your fucking fault, isn’t it?”

He knew it was, it had to be. It was always Albrook, after all. They dared to be just a few miles south of *his* tower, and then complained whenever he got mad at them and blew them up. It was ridiculous, really.

“This is the last time, Albrook!” the man hissed. He hopped angrily down from the windows and headed to the middle of the room. The center of the room contained an orb of light. “I swear, if you fucking rebuild again, I’m going to come down there and kill you all with my own hands!”

He raised his hands to the light, and was about to again blast the somewhat unsuspecting town, when he stopped. The man whipped his head away from the direction of his target, his cold eyes focusing on the windows to the north. He hopped back up onto the ledge and leaned toward the northern windows.

“Uwee, what’s this?” He tilted his head to the side, peering down curiously. Something was there, something that shouldn’t have been. It might even be dangerous, but that was hard to tell from such a distance. Normally he would just blow whatever it was up, but this was interesting...

On a dead world like this, where had such a strong surge of magic suddenly come from? He wondered if perhaps there was some errant Esper running around that he hadn’t already bagged. The possibility sent an excited shiver up his spine. The man giggled loudly as he cast a quick glance over his shoulder again at the light. No, no sense in just blowing it up and letting it go to waste. Whatever it was might even prove to be entertaining for a little while.

Until he killed it, at least.

The man looked to the floor, where a crudely drawn map had been sketched onto the stones. He consulted the window again, and then the map. Whatever it was, it was heading toward the little speck of a town called Tzen.

“I could have sworn that I got rid of all those Returners and their rotten little friends,” the man said, tapping a long nail on the window pane. “I hope they’re not thinking about planning something again...”

With a wicked giggle he hopped down from the windows and set off to the lone exit of the chamber. “I’ll have to send someone down to check on that.” He nodded to himself. “And then I think I’ll go blow up Albrook anyways! They’re getting so sassy these days!”

His laugh echoed down the stone stairwell as he disappeared from the windowed chamber.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Walking to the distant glimmer had really not been one of Kuja’s best decisions. Half an hour of walking had landed him in the middle of a stretch of desert. The air here was hotter than it had been before, but still just as dry. As Kuja walked, he started to get the feeling that there was more to the dryness in the air than just low humidity. It was like the life had been sucked out of it. As if something or someone had sucked the magic lifeblood of the area dry. It didn’t feel all that different from the air in Terra, to be honest. Perhaps he hadn’t moved somewhere else in Gaia, perhaps he had landed in some forbidden part of Terra that he had never heard about. Garland kept his secrets, so it was possible.

Kuja was starting to wish he’d put a bottle of water in his bag. What was in the bag was starting to weigh painfully on his right shoulder.

“Great,” Kuja said, muttering to his boots. “I’m going to die out here like a complete moron.” He stumbled a bit in the sand. “Garland’s going to kill me for this.”

He was tired, and his knees were starting to ache. Kuja wasn’t sure why this was the case. It was part of Garland’s instructions that he keep himself in good physical condition. Perhaps it was that strange dryness to the air. He imagined that he could feel it seeping into his brain and draining him of his magic.

Kuja continued walking. There was nothing else he could do. If he stopped now who knows what sorts of monsters might happen upon him. Moving made him feel like he was accomplishing something, although to be honest he wasn’t entirely sure what that something was. 

Another twenty minutes of stumbling through the desert brought Kuja the first flicker of hope that he’d felt in hours. In the distance he could just make out the lights of a small town. Kuja was glad for it, as the daylight was beginning to wane, and the sky off to his right was steadily darkening. All that the gathering gloom told the young man was that he was walking, more or less, in the direction of north.

He picked up his pace, eager to return to any sort of civilization and get out of the blasted wilderness. The desert began to give way to an uncertain grassland, and after a few more minutes the ground beneath his aching feet grew firmer. Sickly looking grass brushed against his boots as he left the desert behind. It was still hot and dry. The darkness in the clouds to his right had spread closer, and far off to his left there was a faint reddish glow.

Kuja was muttering to himself again as the silhouettes of buildings appeared before him. “I just need to find an inn. That’s all for now. I can worry about where the hell I am in the morning.”  
It seemed like a decent enough plan to the Genome, but even as the town came into clearer focus he was being nagged by the impression that something was wrong. The buildings of the town were badly in need of repair, but that wasn’t what was making him feel ill at ease.

Whatever it was, it was behind him, approaching from the south. 

Kuja stopped. He was close enough to the town now to hear the muted sounding of voices and to smell food being cooked for dinner. But the hairs on his tail were bristling on their own accord, and that wasn’t something they usually did. The Genome swallowed, nervously brushing his hair back. He didn’t want to turn around, he really didn’t want to turn around--

But he did turn at the sound of a thundering roar behind him. His boot heel caught in the tangle of dry grass that covered the ground, and he nearly dropped his bag as he spun to see whatever it was had come up behind him. Kuja partially didn’t really need to look. He knew without seeing the eight foot tall body bristling with spines that the roar belonged to a monster.

“Shit!” He backpedaled in the direction of the town. It was, Kuja’s brain managed to relate to itself despite being overwhelmed by panic signals, a Behemoth.

Where the hell had it come from? He should have been able to have heard its approach, the monster weighed tons and was making more noise than a Lindblum air cab even as it stood still. It was almost as if it had been summoned from the dead air. Kuja ran out of time to ponder this strange occurence as the monster roared and began to stomp toward him.

Kuja raised his right hand at the Behemoth. His lips parted. He had to cast something, anything to stop the overgrown monster. His mouth closed and opened again. Nothing. He couldn’t think of a single damn incantation.

He was only dimly aware of the sound of other people screaming behind him. The villagers had been drawn out by the sound of the advancing Behemoth’s roars.

“Hurry, get underground!”  
“Get inside!”  
“Mother, where are you?”  
“What did we do to piss off Kefka this time?”

Kuja lifted his hand again, desperately willing his brain to remember.

Nothing. Absolutely nothing, as if it had never been there at all.

The Behemoth roared, swinging at Kuja with a massive forelimb tipped with even more massive claws. The Genome dodged easily enough, but as he did so his foot snagged in the roots of the grass and he landed hard on his side.

There was a brief, brilliant flash of light across his vision, and then darkness.

 

“You know, Rocco, I think it’s male.”

“Are you sure?”

It was strange, Kuja managed to think. He could understand what they were saying.

“Well, not totally, but I don’t think it’s a girl.” A pause. “No tits, you know.”

“Oh. Well, that doesn’t mean anything with those critters.”

At waking there was still just darkness, except for a painful pulse of red across the scope of his right eye. Not far away two men were talking, and Kuja could feel the presence of many of people all in quite close.

He wasn’t dead, though, so it was better than the alternative.

“Papa, I think it’s waking up!” A girl’s voice this time, high pitched and excited.

“Don’t get too close to it, you don’t know what they’ll do when they’re injured.”

“What should we do with it?” A woman’s voice, quite close to him.

One of the first men replied to her: “It would probably be easiest to just kill it.”

“Luther!”

“Well, it would!” There was a quaver to the man’s voice. “Who knows what the hell that thing is capable of? What if Kefka sent it? What if that thing’s why the Behemoth showed up?”

“But look at it, Luther, it’s so young.”

Kuja felt a light press of fingertips to his forehead. Even though the touch was gentle it sent pain shooting through his head and across his eyes. He groaned. There was a gasp from the group around him, and he could hear them quickly shifting away.

“Be careful!”

He lifted his hand, pressing his palm over his eyes as he sat up. That wasn’t the best thing to do, as the pain returned viciously and a flutter of nausea hit his stomach.

“Be careful, child,” the woman near him said. “You hit your head quite hard on the ground when you fell. It’s a miracle anyone got to you before the Behemoth killed you.”

Kuja pulled his hand away slowly, squinting for a moment while his eyes adjusted to the light of the lamps around them. He rested his hand in his lap and looked around. What was immediately evident was that something was wrong with him. Everything looked as fine as it could with his left eye, but everything on the right side was blurred and faintly tinted red.

He was, as he’d suspected, surrounded by people. There were adults and children, as well as a few dogs and cats and an uneasy looking chocobo. The ceiling was low overhead, and Kuja wondered if they were underground in a basement.

“Where are we? What happened? The Behemoth...” He trailed off as his tongue decided it didn’t feel like working yet.

“The Behemoth should be gone in awhile,” one of the men said. “It’ll get bored and leave. Always does.”

“This... happens a lot?”

There was an uneasy pause, and Kuja caught the men giving each other an uncertain look.

During their hesitation, one of the little girls looked up at him curiously, her brown eyes wide. “Are you an Esper?”

“A what?”

She gestured ambiguously at his backside. For a moment Kuja was confused again, but then he realized...

She was looking at his tail. No, correction, they were all looking at it.

Kuja was overcome by a sting of annoyance and shame. Stupid peasants, there was nothing wrong with his tail! He made a shooing motion at the little girl and turned his face away, hoping to hiding the scarlet stain that was creeping up onto his cheeks.

“Charlotte, don’t be rude,” another woman said. The girl made a disagreeing noise, and continued to stare at him. Kuja’s brain clicked along slowly, still clouded with pain. He suspected he had a mild concussion. Nothing that a quick casting of cure wouldn’t fix, but he was reluctant to heal himself in front of these strangers. They were contemplating killing him, after all, and he hadn’t done anything wrong. Well, nothing that they knew about. He felt queasy again as the men resumed their discussion.

Kuja closed his right eye and covered it with his hand. “I’ll leave once the Behemoth’s gone. You won’t have to worry about me.” He glanced around the room, the ill feeling in his stomach lessening. “I thank whoever saved me, but I won’t stay and cause you all any more trouble.”

“It may not be safe to just let you leave.” There was a general nod of agreement.

“Well, I’m not going to stay here and let you kill me,” Kuja said. One of the men, big and burly and generally not very pleasant looking, snorted at him.

“You don’t get much say in that.” He cracked his knuckles. “For all we know, you’re not any better than that monster outside.”

They really had no idea who he was, Kuja thought. He scanned the room, looking for any exits. He couldn’t see any in the shadows behind the group.

“Where are we?” he asked again, voice soft.

“In the basement of the mayor’s mansion,” the woman nearest to him said.

So they were underground. “What’s the town?”

They all blinked at him. “You mean you don’t know?”

Kuja pulled his hand away from his face. The slender digits were smeared with a thin layer of blood. His vision was still blurry, and so he returned his hand to his eye. “No, I don’t know. I got lost.”

There was a low chuckle from somewhere in the room. “This is no place to get lost in. Not so damn close to Kefka’s tower.”

“...Kefka’s tower?”

“Mmhmm. Hard to miss, just look to the south of here when you’re outside.”

Kuja had no idea what they were talking about, but offered a slight nod anyways. “So we’re in...”

“Tzen. Or what’s left of it.”

“Tzen...” Kuja closed his left eye now, thinking. No, there weren’t any towns called Tzen on Gaia, were there? And no place on Terra bore that name either...

There was a long, silent moment in the basement. Kuja could feel the eyes of everyone on him. Finally, one of the men cleared their throat and spoke.

“Just get some rest down here tonight,” he said. “We’ll decide what to do with you in the morning.”


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The hell he was waiting for morning.

Kuja had drifted off into a haze of something that wasn’t quite sleep, but wasn’t quite unconsciousness either. He was aware dimly of the villagers leaving and time passing. Eventually he hazarded to open his left eye and looked about. The room was very dark, nearly completely drenched in black but for the gleam of soft light on the far side of the basement. The light was coming from a lamp. Even better, the lamp was casting its amber gaze out upon a door. A way out.

He opened his right eye, but it was too dark to tell if things were still fuzzy on that side. There was still pain present, stabbing him occasionally at a point just beyond his right eyebrow. Kuja lounged in the darkness for several minutes more, carefully thinking out the incantation for a Cure spell. The words came to him much more easily now that he wasn’t in a fit of panic with a Behemoth breathing down the neck of his tunic.

Kuja pressed his fingers to the right side of his head and murmured the incantation. He waited patiently for the warm relief. There was a faint glow of green in the dark, but it faded too quickly to be of any worth.

“What the hell?” Had he used up so much magic casting the Zona Shift that he now couldn’t even perform a simple Cure spell? Impossible!

Then maybe it was this strange place, so devoid of magic that the air was drawing it right out of him. The thought gave Kuja a chill. Without magic he would never be able to really figure out what had went wrong with the Zona Shift. What was worse, he would never be able to get back to Gaia either.

“That’s a dismal prospect...” Gaia might have been boring, but at least it wasn’t yet in ruins.

But first things first. He had to get out of this town as quickly as he could. Kuja did not want to risk waking up in a few hours only to find that the mob was calling for his death. It didn’t help that they seemed to think him some sort of monster. He was many things, but no damned monster.

It took a few tries, but Kuja managed to get to his feet. He was pleasantly surprised that the villagers hadn’t restrained him. He held a hand out in front of him, feeling his way through the lamplit twilight. After the second step, his left foot caught on something. Looking down, and then squatting to feet what it was, Kuja discovered that he’d stumbled upon the bag he’d brought with him from Gaia.

“I swear, if those stupid peasants...” He opened the top flap of the bag and felt around inside. There was his favorite cloak, and there was the book he’d brought along. His fingers brushed along the cool, smooth planes of two pieces of quartz. He cursed himself for not having the forethought to bring along an extra piece of amber and aquamarine in case he needed to perform the Zona Shift again on Terra. But why would he have needed to? Once on Terra he could have gone back to Gaia through the transporters and the airship. He wasn’t to blame for lack of foresight, really.

After making sure that nothing was missing from his bag, Kuja carefully closed the clasps and slung the strap over his right shoulder. It still weighed heavily there, and with a grimace he switched it to his left. There was a tender spot on the curve of his right shoulder from where he had collided with the ground earlier. He supposed himself lucky to have not sustained any more serious injuries than that.

“Of course, if I was really lucky, I wouldn’t have wound up in this dump.” Hand out in front of him again, Kuja made his way to the lamp. Once there, he stopped, listening. There were noises coming from the other side of the door. Some paces distant, possibly up a set of stairs, two men were murmuring to each other. Their voices sounded similar to those of Rocco and Luther from earlier in the night. Closer, right on the other side of the door, Kuja could hear the faint sound of snoring. He concluded that the door was being guarded, and frowned. How was he going to get out now?

“Think, Kuja, think.” He was whispering to himself again. “You’re far smarter than any of these stupid peasants, there has to be another way out of here.” He thought, the darkness pressing in on him from all sides. It was almost suffocating, and he was having a hard time thinking clearly. No, the bump on his head didn’t really help in this matter, but if he wasn’t under such duress Kuja would have sworn that there was something else down in the basement with him.

“Oh, stop being silly.” His voice was shaking. Great. He wasn’t afraid of the dark, so why was he acting like this?

His mental question was answered by a faint growl from his stomach, and Kuja sighed. Fabulous. Now he was hungry and nervous and in a bit of pain.

The voices of the men drifted closer on the other side of the door, and Kuja stopped berating himself long enough to listen.

“I’m telling you, we should just kill it and offer up its magicite to Kefka. Maybe then he’ll leave Tzen alone for awhile.”

Oh god, they were still thinking about killing him, weren’t they? Kuja frowned. If he ever got back to Gaia he was going to make sure the peasants there were squashed out in as miserable and traumatizing a way as he could fashion. But that would have to wait.

“You may be right, Rocco...” Kuja heard the heavy tap of boots on stairs, and stepped away from the door. As he moved, his elbow struck a cabinet. Kuja winced, but his pain was overwhelmed by his brain registering the sound of glass clinking in the cabinet that he’d run into. The Genome picked up the lamp and held it up in front of the cabinet. It was old, and apparently intended for the storage of medicines. He swung the door open.

Medicines and magic potions.

A smile sprung to Kuja’s lips. He could still hear the men talking outside, so he would have to hurry. The cabinet was crammed full of dusty old bottles, and he had to squint in the dim light to make out some of the faded lettering. He plucked a potion from shelf and pried out the stopper. It tasted horrible, to be honest, but left a warm pleasant sensation on his forehead. Better. He downed a second potion, then resumed searching the cabinet shelves for what he really needed.

Outside the door, the men were waking up the guard and scolding him. Kuja fought back panic, his brain searching out the incantations to spells even as his fingers continued tracing along the seemingly endless rows of bottles. Finally he found what he really needed.

There were only two bottles of ether left on the shelves, but they were going to have to do. He swallowed the contents of each bottle in quick succession, doing his best to ignore the horrible bitter taste that all ethers tended to have. He needed the magic in him more than he needed his tongue to be happy.

Kuja gasped softly, nearly dropping the second bottle. A warmth sprouted in his stomach and quickly spread out through his limbs. The pain in his head ebbed, though not disappearing completely. Kuja was tempted to heal himself, but decided against it. He needed all the magic power he could muster for escaping from this place. Healing could happen later.

He licked his lips, tongue working much more cooperatively than it had in hours. Kuja set down the lamp and moved toward the door. He could hear a heavy clink as the lock was released. Kuja raised his right hand, ignoring the lingering twinge of pain on his shoulder.

“... mati sevros. Break!”

The men didn’t see it coming--it was just too dark. The Break spell emitted no light of its own as it struck the men. Kuja was fortunate in this--they had all been standing very close together. Kuja narrowed his eyes at the men as they turned to stone, freezing in place.

“Safety in numbers my ass.” Kuja shoved past the statues of his captors and darted for the stairs. It was still dark here, and quiet. The Genome hesitated as he reached the top of the stairs. There was no one here. He strained his ears, and could make out the sounds of snoring some rooms distant. 

The quiet made Kuja feel ill at ease again. It made him worry that he was not alone in the hall, that someone was waiting around the corner to stop his escape.

“So close,” he whispered to himself. Kuja clenched his right hand into a fist. Well, fine. If there was someone waiting for him just down the hall, they’d get a face full of magic, just like those other stupid peasants. He wasn’t going to stop now.

If I knew how, I’d blow up this stupid town myself, Kuja thought. How dare they lock him up and treat him like this just because he had a tail! Stupid peasants.

There was a creak off to Kuja’s left and he froze. When he decided the coast was clear he continued down the dark hallway. Ten, twenty... he found himself counting the paces as he made his way down the wooden floorboards. Every time one of the boards creaked under his feet he froze. It felt like it took forever to reach the front door.

Eventually, though, he reached the door. Kuja was surprised to find it unlocked. Even in the peaceful city of Alexandria the citizens usually locked their doors at night. Oh well. The knob turned easily in Kuja’s hand, and he stepped out into the night.

Outside, the night air was cool. Kuja retrieved his cloak from the bag on his left shoulder and pulled it on. That helped with the cold, but Kuja was unable to suppress a shiver as he moved down the empty village streets. There was something sinister out there, and for a moment Kuja worried that the Behemoth had come back. He stopped, listening carefully, but heard nothing. That was no comfort, naturally, since he hadn’t heard anything the first time the Behemoth had attacked either. Kuja looked to the south. Far off, barely visible over the horizon, was a point of light. It was like a lighthouse in the middle of nowhere. If it hadn’t been so large Kuja might have mistaken it for a star. Of course, the heavy clouds overhead blocked out the stars in the night sky, so it had to be something else.

“Kefka’s tower...” Kuja said softly. The night air swallowed his words, and Kuja shifted uneasily on his feet. Perhaps this Kefka person could help him perform another Zona Shift? Perhaps, but he might be better off trying to figure the magic out again on his own. After all, the villagers had seemed quite fearful of the owner of the tower. “But then again... peasants are stupid and afraid of anything they don’t understand...”

Like young men with tails.

Kuja took a few steps to the south, but stopped. There was that heavy, uneasy presence behind him again. He turned quickly, half expecting to see the red eyes of a Behemoth staring down at him from the darkness.

But nothing was there. No monsters, no people, no stray cats or unpenned chocobos... Nothing.

Kuja sighed, and as he did he noticed a faint glimmer on the ground about five yards away. He looked around, checking for monsters and villagers again, then made his way over to the spot where he’d seen the glimmer.

A bright red stone rested on the stones of the main thoroughfare. Kuja stopped, staring at it. It was a very pretty stone, he thought. But where had it come from? He’d walked over those self same stones just a few minutes before, and hadn’t noticed anything on the ground. Of course, he had been more occupied with looking over his shoulder than at the ground, but still...

The young man stooped, hand reaching out to touch the stone. His fingers closed around the gem, and he was surprised to find that it was quite warm.

“Oh!” Kuja cried out in alarm as the stone jerked in his hand, the edges cutting into his palm. He flung his fingers open, but the stone did not fall. Instead, there was a gleam of light from within the jewel, and bits of silver flickered out over his skin. It took only a few seconds for the jewel to become embedded in a silver manacle around the Genome’s narrow wrist.

The air shifted around him, and Kuja blinked, tearing his vision away from his wrist. He’d been so absorbed in what was happening in his hand that he had failed to notice that the scenery had changed around him. Gone were the dark streets full of dark buildings and dark air. In there place was a small room, its walls windowless and made of heavy dark blue-grey stones.  
He’d walked into a trap. Maybe Garland had been right when he’d called him a stupid child.

The room was small and narrow, leading to a simple wooden door. Kuja instinctively moved for the door, but his advance was stopped as he collided with an invisible wall. There was a flicker of light as he collided, and it made his skin sting horribly.

“What the hell?” Kuja took a step back and reached out again. His fingers grazed the invisible wall. The flickering light reappearing, and magic energy stung at his fingertips. Kuja frowned and pulled his hand away. He was trapped like a Burmecian rat.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” an amused voice said. Kuja looked around, but he was alone in the small room. “Wouldn’t want you hurting yourself, now would we?” The voice let out a strange noise, and after a moment Kuja realized that it was laughing.

“Who are you? Let me out of here!”

“In time, if you’re a good little pet,” the voice said. “Uwee hee hee... What’s your name, child?”

Kuja’s tail bristled. “I’m not a child!”

“Close enough. What’s your damn name?”

“Why should I tell you?” Kuja shot back. Even as the words left his lips the manacle on his right wrist seemed to tighten and grow very hot. Kuja cried out in pain. “Stop it!”

“Why should I?” There was another amused, twisted laugh. “Tell me your name.”

“Why do you want to know?”

“I like to know who I’m playing with,” the voice said. Another giggle. “If your good I’ll tell you mine.”

“I don’t want to know your name, I want out of here!” Kuja slammed his manacled wrist against the wall, but succeeded only in leaving a gouge in the stone. The manacle--and the wrist it encircled--remained unscathed. Kuja groaned as the voice laughed again.

“Be that way, then,” the voice said. “I’ll leave you in there until you’re ready to cooperate.”

Kuja’s stomach pinched painfully. “Do I at least get anything to eat?”

There was a pause of consideration, then a short laugh. “No. No you don’t.”

 

Despite his growing hunger and the fact that the side of his head was starting to hurt again, Kuja held out against the giggling queries of the disembodied voice. He was not going to give in to some nutty stranger. He was not... he was Garland’s greatest damn creation, and he was not going to give in... 

Kuja lasted two nights.

On the third morning, Kuja had hooked his nails into the invisible wall and screamed in frustration. The last of his magical energy had drained away the day before, and with nothing to eat he could do nothing to generate more. This led to paranoia, which led to him not being able to sleep. He was hungry and thirsty and tired and really had to go the bathroom, and was wishing desperately that he had never ventured to cast the Zona Shift in the first place.

The voice’s frequent taunting really didn’t help things either.

“Please, let me out, I’ll talk!” Kuja wailed, barely registering the pain as the magic wall crackled and stung at his skin.

There was a long moment of silence, and then: “Oh, you’ll talk now, will you?”

“Yes!”

“Why should I believe you?”

“You... you shouldn’t! I’m just asking you to!” Great, now he sounded almost as crazy as the disembodied voice.

“Well, since you asked so nicely... I’ll think about it.”

 

Several more hours passed, and Kuja remained crouched in front of the magic wall. He could barely stay awake, and occasionally would slump forward. His head would strike the wall just as he fell asleep, and the sting shocked him back into wakefulness.

He opened his mouth to offer another weak entreaty, but made no noise. His ears had caught the sound of clicking footsteps from the other side of the door.

“I think you’ve been in there long enough,” the voice sounded from the other side of the wooden door. “But if you’re bad you’re going right back in here.”

“Please,” Kuja croaked. “Just let me out...”

He heard the door unlock. There was a flicker of light in front of Kuja’s eyes as the magic wall was dispelled. He sagged forward, and was barely able to get to his feet as the door swung open.

Kuja staggered to the open doorway and looked out. There was no one in the hallway. Odd, he could have sworn he heard footsteps. But then, by now he was probably hallucinating things, so he may have very well imagined the footsteps. Or whoever it was that had unlocked the door.

“Just head down the stairs, you should be able to figure out where to go,” the voice told him. “The stairs at at the end of the hall, to your right.”

Kuja turned his head slowly, looking to his right. The hall extended only about ten feet before it disappeared into the darkness of what Kuja assumed was the stairway. Unsteadily, Kuja moved his left foot forward, and then his right. The walls seemed to warp around him. They bulged oddly, then pinched in. The floor shifted at each of his steps, shying away from his feet.

A groan escaped him as his feet missed the floor and he sank against the wall. The darkness of the stairwell slithered out and overtook him, worming into his eyes and ears and pulling him into a blissfully empty embrace.


	5. Chapter 5

When he woke again, it was to the stabbing of something bright in his eyes. He blinked them open. Sunlight? Was he back on Gaia? He blinked again, waiting for his eyes to focus on a swath of dark red over his head. His right eye no longer blurred, and his head no longer hurt.

Kuja stared up at the red. Disappointment crept into his body. No, he wasn’t back on Gaia. He had no idea where the hell he was now. He shifted a bit, feeling a strange softness underneath his limbs. Was he on a bed? Kuja moved his right hand, and heard a clink of metal. No, he definitely wasn’t back on Gaia yet. The blasted manacle was still there, clinging to his wrist like an anxious child. But underneath that was a smooth expanse of fabric. He forced himself to sit up. Yes, he was in a bed. The stretch of red over his head was from a canopy that blocked out most of what surrounded him from view. A bit of sunlight was creeping through a break in the layers of fabric surrounding him.

But where was he that there was sunlight? Last he had seen, the whole sky was choked by thick clouds that seemed as unending as the Mist on Gaia. To be seeing the sunlight the clouds either had to be gone, or he had to be...

“Very high above the clouds, yes,” a voice said from beyond the canopy. Kuja stiffened, recognizing the voice as the same that had been taunting him for days. He reached out and pushed aside the heavy fabric of the canopy.

There was a figure standing next to the door. It was hidden partially in the door’s shadow. 

“Well, hello to you too,” Kuja mumbled.

The figure stepped closer, and Kuja realized: this was were all the magic in the world had gone. As the figure moved into the sunlight, Kuja found himself looking at a man. He wasn’t very tall, in fact he was several inches shorter than Kuja was, but he was absolutely full to the brim with magic energy.

Kuja fought for words. “Are you... Kefka?”

The man stopped his advance, a smile splitting his face in half. His teeth were remarkably white, and they gleamed brightly between his red-painted lips. His skin was unusually pale, to the point of being white. For a moment Kuja thought it was make up, but a glance at the man’s milk white hands altered his doubts. Varying streaks of red makeup arched from above and below the man’s icy blue eyes. Kuja had read about the make up sorcerers used to wear on Terra, but this was taking things to extremes.

The only thing odder than the man’s face was what he was wearing. The man was wearing dark red trousers and a violet shirt. A heavily embroidered bright green vest topped the shirt. He had long bright blond hair that was pulled back into a ponytail, and his hair was ornamented with a variety of gemstones and ribbons and topped off with a brilliant sky blue chocobo tail feather. An assortment of gold and silver earrings jingled from his ears. The whole ensemble was topped off, oddly enough, by a pair of fuzzy white slippers bedecked with what looked like moogle pompoms. 

“So I still have a reputation amongst the little bugs, I see?” A little giggle played in the man’s throat. “So good of them to remember their god.” His eyes lit up at the last word.

“You’re a god?” Kuja asked, unable to keep the doubt out of his voice. The man was awfully short for a god.

“You couldn’t tell?” the man asked in reply. Kuja was debating the safety of not answering that question when the man turned to a small table and waved a hand. Kuja was first distracted by the man’s long nails, painted the same bloody shade of red as his makeup. He was surprised when a small tray appeared on the table. It bore a bottle, a glass, and a covered dish. Kuja’s stomach growled fiercely as the smell of cooked fowl reached his nose.

“I’ll give you this if you tell me your name. Isn’t that fair?”

Kuja considered the tray. “It’s probably poisoned.”

The man laughed loudly, picking up the tray. “Oh, no, I’ve outgrown that stage, uwee hee hee!”

Kuja was not going to ask what that meant. He watched Kefka’s slow approach. The man was a bit unsteady on his feet, as if he’d been drinking. Kefka was staring at him intently, and Kuja was suddenly completely aware of the fact that he wasn’t wearing any clothing.

“Where are my clothes?” Kuja wondered, holding the covers close against his body.

“Uwee...” Kefka eyed him. “You know, I was never under the impression that Espers needed to wear clothing.”

“I’m not an Esper!” Kuja said. “I don’t even know what an Esper is!”

The thin blonde brows arched high on Kefka’s forehead, making his makeup wrinkle peculiarly. “You mean that you don’t know what you are?”

“I know what I am,” Kuja said. “And what I am is not an Esper.”

“Then what?”

“I’m a Genome.”

“A what?”

Kuja sighed. “I can’t expect you to understand.”

Kefka stopped a few feet from the bed. “I will accept that answer for now. I’m sure I’ll get the truth out of you eventually...” There was malice in his giggle this time. “You haven’t told me your name yet.”

“Why do you want to know it so badly?”

Kefka shrugged, lowering the tray. Legs sprouted from its bottom, and when he let it go the tray had been replaced by another small table. He nudged it closer to the edge of the bed. “You know mine.”

Kuja considered this. “The whole world knows your name, doesn’t it?”

His red lips pulled into another face splitting smile. “They do if they know what’s good for them, hee hee!” Kefka gestured at the table. “So?”

“...Kuja. My name’s Kuja.”

Kefka giggled. “See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” He poured the contents of the bottle out into the glass. The liquid was thick and gleamed ruby red as the sunlight was caught in its arc. “Don’t worry, it’s just wine.”

“What else would it be?”

Kefka smirked at him, and, for once, said nothing. Ignoring the little voice in his head that was screaming at him to not consume anything that this weird clown looking man of a sorcerer or god or whatever gave him, Kuja picked up the glass of wine and took a sip.

It tasted good, so he shrugged and downed the rest of the glass. Kefka was watched him with an unsettled intensity, and poured the young man another glass of wine. Kuja curiously lifted the lid on the dish. He was met by the heavenly sight and smell of roasted chocobo. His stomach growled again, and Kuja shamelessly devoured the contents of the tray.

All the while, Kefka stood by the bedside, watching and taking in his every move. Kuja still found this unsettling, but he was too hungry to really care.

“Good?” Kefka asked once the food and wine had been consumed.

Kuja hesitated, but nodded. “Yes, it was quite good, actually.”

The little blonde man smiled brightly. “Excellent!” He waved a hand and the table disappeared.

“Can I have my clothes back?” Kuja asked. Kefka pursed his lips as he looked at him.

“I don’t know, I like you better without them.”

“Please!”

A fresh giggle sprang from his captor’s throat. “Perhaps later, uwee hee...”

“Where’s my bag?”

The long red nails pointed across the room. Kuja spotted his bag sitting on top of a set of dresser drawers. “I didn’t mess with it. Wasn’t anything interesting in it, really.” Kefka moved closer, his fingertips coming to rest on the manacle. Kuja pulled his hand away.

“What is this thing for, anyways?”

Kefka smirked. “So I can keep a handle on you, of course.” He giggled. “Don’t need you going all whacked on me.”

“You’re already pretty whacked yourself, aren’t you.”

He winked. “You catch on quickly!” Kefka shoved the canopy aside and sat on the bed. He swung his legs, looking at Kuja. “So tell me, what’s your specialty?”

“My... my what?” Kuja scooted away from him.

“You know, what’s your element? Your bag? What do you do?”

“I don’t follow.”

Kefka sighed loudly, and Kuja felt a sting on his right wrist.

“Ow, don’t do that, I really don’t!”

The blonde looked at him. “Every Esper has its own specialty. It’s own particular field of magic that it particularly excels in.” He gestured at Kuja. “And as you are an Esper, you should have your own specialty.”

“I already told you, I’m not an Esper.”

“Mm-hmm, I know you said that.” Kefka’s eyes lit up. “An unaligned Esper, imagine that!” He clapped his hands and giggled. “Oh, this should be fun!”

“I don’t want to know what that means, do I?”

Kefka tapped his long nails on his chin, staring at Kuja again. “Well, as I see it, this will give me an opportunity to influence your alignment. I get to choose what use I get out of you!” He laughed, and the warped noise echoed off the walls of the chamber.

“Use of me...?” Kuja didn’t like the sound of that. Garland had already given him a purpose, and it in no way involved being the pet of a madman. “Listen, I’m not going to be your plaything.”

“Says you,” Kefka said. He hopped off the bed, laughing again. “I’ll be nice and let you get some more rest. Just don’t go trying to jump out of the windows or anything, okay?”

“Do I have any choice?”

“Uwee, no, you don’t!” Kefka practically skipped to the doorway. “I’ll be back later!”

The door slammed shut. Kuja heaved a sigh, flopping back onto the bed. Why *was* he naked, anyways? What had that crazy man done with him while he was unconscious? How long had he been out? He hadn’t thought to ask Kefka how long he had been here. Had it only been a few hours since he blacked out in the hall, or longer?

“Four days,” Kefka’s voice said, though he had not returned to the room. Kuja frowned. He sat up, then slid off the bed. The stones of the floor were pleasantly warm beneath his bare feet, and Kuja made his way across the room. There were a line of windows on the wall that faced the big canopy bed. The dresser with his bag was huddled nearby. Kuja peered out the window, and had to do a double take at what he saw.

Clouds, as far as the eye could see. It was like being on the Invincible, flying high over the Mist Continent on Gaia. As he watched, the clouds seemed to shimmer for a moment, and Kuja could briefly make out the stretch of the landscape below. There were miles of parched grasslands, fringed in the distance by desert and mountains. Odd rows of hills seemed to arc out from where they were, interrupting the monotony of the grasslands. Kuja spotted what looked like a small town nestled between a patch of mountain and desert. Was that perhaps Tzen? At this distance it was hard to say, but...

A thought sprang to mind, an echo of an earlier, more aggravated thought. He cleared his throat.

“Kefka, what town is that out there?”

“Uwee, that’s probably Tzen,” Kefka’s voice replied after a moment. “Tzen should be the only town you can see from that window.”

Kuja tilted his head. “Kefka...”

“Hmm?”

“Could you do something for me?”

“Uwee hee, only if you can do something for me.” Kefka’s giggle echoed in the room. Kuja licked his lower lip.

“How hard would it be for you to destroy Tzen? I mean, you claim to be a god and all, but I don’t know how believable that claim really is...”

There was another giggle. “Not hard at all.” There was a pause. “But you’ll have to do something for me.”

“...like what?”

“Hee... I don’t know, I haven’t thought of anything yet.” Another maniacal giggle. “But I’m going to hold you to it.”

Kuja closed his eyes and nodded. “Okay.”

“Open your eyes, little Esper. You should see it.”

He obediently opened his eyes, looking in the direction of Tzen. Above, from somewhere above him in the tower, there was a flicker of light that shined even brighter than the sun. It coalesced into a solid beam that shot down through the sky, stabbing through the clouds. The cover shimmered again, and Kuja could see as the beam of solid white light slashed across the buildings and surrounding grassland. Something in the town exploded as the beam past, and soon all was ablaze.

The light faded, then disappeared. Kuja stared, eyes wide. What power! He leaned a bit toward the glass. Such utter, effortless destruction. The realization of it sent a thrill down Kuja’s spine, right down to the tip of his tail. He was uncertain if the feeling that made his breath tight in his chest was from fear or excitement, but a single thought rang clear in the young man’s mind:

He needed that power for himself.


	6. Chapter 6

It was later in the afternoon when Kefka summoned for him again. As before, Kuja got no say in the matter. One moment he was seated on the edge of the bed, staring boredly in the direction of the windows. The next the jewel on his manacle glowed and he was landing on his rump in the middle of a wide open sunlit room.

Kuja wasn’t sure what was worse about the move: the abruptness or the fact that he was still nude.

“I guess gods don’t have to have manners!” Kuja snapped at the blonde man as he scrambled to his feet. Kefka had his back to him and was staring out at the blue sky. Kuja curled his tail modestly around his groin.

Kefka gave a loud, dramatic sigh, waving a hand at him. “If I’d called for you, you would have just protested, or gotten lost on the way up or fainted again and fallen down the stairs!”

“You could have at least given me some warning! Or some clothing, it’s cold up here!”

Kefka’s head tilted to the side a bit, and Kuja could see the wry smile there. “Yes, I could have done that.”

Kuja looked around the room. It was circular, with almost all of the walls taken up by tall windows. An orb of light not much larger than a chocobo egg hovered directly between the floor and the ceiling at the center of the room. The light periodically grew brighter and dimmer, as if it had its own pulse. It was unsettling, but Kuja had seen stranger things while growing up in the labs of Terra. Except for a few forgotten pieces of chalk at his feet, the room was otherwise empty.

“Where are we?” Kuja wondered aloud.

“My observatory.” There was a giggle. “I can watch all the little bugs crawling around from up here.” Kefka looked back to the window. “Are you afraid of heights?”

“...sometimes.”

“Uwee hee hee! Then you should definitely take a look.”

Kuja didn’t really think that was a good idea, but moved toward the windows anyways. He got the impression that, for now at least, it was better to keep this strange man amused. After all, he was able to set a town ablaze so easily... He stopped in front of one of the curving windows and looked out.

They were higher up that before. Much higher than in the room Kuja had been kept in. From this height the cloud cover was nearly transparent. Perhaps the clouds were just an illusion to keep the peasants’ spirits down? It was possible. Looking down at the ground far below made Kuja feel ill again briefly, but he swallowed it down.

“We’re very high up.”

“That’s right.” Kefka moved over to him, so light in his footsteps that he was practically hopping. The movement brought a brief smile to Kuja’s face, and the other man stopped. He grinned toothily at Kuja, and continued closer. “From up here I can see all over this part of the world.”

“Why would you want to do that?”

“To keep an eye on them, of course!” Kefka waved a hand at the window. “They’re plotting to overthrow me.”

“Sounds like they don’t like you, then.”

Kefka smiled maliciously at the sky. “They don’t know any better, that’s all.” He turned away from the window, running his gaze down Kuja’s front.

“What do you want with me, anyways?” Kuja whispered. Kefka gave his narrow shoulders a minute shrug.

“I haven’t quite figured that out yet, uwee hee...” The blonde moved around Kuja, circling him and sliding his gaze over the young man’s pale, exposed skin. “I’m sure I’ll think of something!”

Kefka stopped behind him, and his hands came to rest on Kuja’s bare shoulders. His fingers arched, until only the tips of his nails were pressed against Kuja’s skin.

“Such a pretty litle frame for such a pretty little picture...”

Kuja inhaled sharply as the long nails traced their way down his torso. They slid dangerously low, until they prodded lightly at his stomach like well-choreographed needles. It was to Kuja’s complete surprise, then, when Kefka’s hands moved no lower.

“Interesting,” the warped voice declared. “Very interesting.”

“What is?”

“You’ve a very strong magic current running through your body,” Kefka said. He slid his nails back up, eliciting a gasp from the young Genome. “And yet you claim to not be an Esper.”

Kuja’s voice shook. “I told you, I’m not an Esper! I was born this way!”

“No human is born with the ability to use magic!” Kefka spat, hands moving roughly, turning Kuja until they were facing. “Only Espers and... and monsters are born like that!”

“That’s not true!”

“It is!” Kefka glared up at him. The look made Kuja shiver.

“I’m telling you the truth as I know it, I swear!”

“Then you’ve lost your mind!” There was an unsettling tint of delight in his voice.

Kuja was alarmed to find that his eyes were burning with tears. “I have not! You’re the one who’s out of his damned mind!”

“Is that so?” Kefka’s pale blue eyes narrowed at him, and his hands went back to Kuja’s shoulders. He shoved the younger man roughly, and Kuja hit the floor shoulderblades first. Kuja’s yelp of pain was drowned out by Kefka’s angry laughter.

“Stop it!”

“Shut up!” Kefka sat, straddling his stomach, hands still firm as they slid down from Kuja’s shoulders to pin his arms. “You think you’re so damned special because of what you are! Well, guess what, prissy miss!” He leaned low over Kuja, until their noses were nearly touching. “You’re not.”

Kuja squeezed his eyes shut, turning his face away. “You’re wrong, you don’t have a clue what you’re talking about!”

“I don’t think you do either!” Kefka giggled, squeezing his arms. “Tell me, Kuja...”

“Wh-what?”

His voice shifted, lowering in tone. Kuja could practically see it warping in the air. “Tell me why I shouldn’t prove you wrong right now.” The dark red fabric of Kefka’s pants was coarse, and it rubbed unpleasantly against the outside of Kuja’s thighs as he shifted backwards.

Kuja shuddered, trying to think. “A good god would show mercy to his subjects!”

A warped chuckle filled his ears. “Heh heh heh... I never said I was a good god, little Esper!”

His tailbone was grinding painfully against the stone floor. How could the stones be so cold when the sunlight poured in on them all day? The bottom half of his tail twitched. The rest of it was pinned underneath him and was starting to cramp. That was all Kuja could think about at that moment.

The air moved as Kefka leaned back. Kuja tilted his face. When he opened his eyes it was to find Kefka’s icy blues staring down at him.

“It’s no fun if you don’t struggle,” Kefka said. His head cocked birdishly to the side, and for a moment there was something faintly akin to concern on his face. “You froze up. What’s the matter?”

“You’re hurting me!”

“That’s the point, uwee hee hee!” He was on his feet in a surprisingly swift movement. “Tell you what, little Esper. I won’t kill you tonight.”

“You... won’t?” Part of Kuja was wishing that the madman would just kill him and get this whole mess over with.

“No, I haven’t gotten anything decent out of you yet.” He smirked, and a length of dark violet fabric appeared in his left hand. Kuja recognized it as his cloak. “It gets boring up here, you know? I might as well get something of worth out of you first.” He held out the cloak. “Come on, get up.”

Kuja hesitated.

“What?” He shook the cloak. “It’s not like I’m going to fuck you or something, you know.” Kefka sneered briefly. “You’re not my type.”

The young man bit his lip, but got to his feet. He took the cloak, half expecting to get a shock from it. When nothing happened he pulled it on, glad for the coverage. Kuja nervously closed the clasps, and then freed his hair from inside the collar.

“I’m not?”

“Not right now, no.” Kefka giggled, turning to face the windows. Off to their left the sky was beginning to take on a faint reddish hue as the sun disappeared behind the horizon.

Once he felt comfortably covered, Kuja cleared his throat. “What’s your type, if I dare ask?”

“Right now it’s big muscled fellowed,” the madman said. There was something about the way that Kefka spoke that made even the most mundane of phrases sound slightly off-kilter. “In a few days, who knows?”

Kuja moved to the windows, a few feet from his captor. “Your type changes regularly.”

There was a pause, then a giggle from Kefka. “Oh, no, not at all! I just made that up! Uwee hee hee, I don’t really have a type.”

“You don’t?”

“No, I hate everyone equally.”

“I see.”

For a few minutes Kefka was quiet. Then, as the shadows increased over the land, he started to point out tiny specks of towns and villages as they were swallowed up by darkness.  
“...and that’s Thamasa... And back behind us is Albrook. I fucking hate Albrook.”

Kuja nodded, though he wasn’t really sure if there was a difference with Albrook from all the other towns. It just seemed closer.

Kefka drummed his nails on the windowsill. He was forever shifting on his feet, like a child that had to go the bathroom but had been told to wait. There was something sad about him, Kuja thought.

He cleared his throat again. “So, you’re a god, right?”

“That’s right!” Kefka didn’t remove his gaze from the shadows of Albrook.

“...what are you going to do with that power?”

Kefka’s eyes lit up. “I’m going to destroy everything!”

From what Kuja had seen of the world, everything already *was* destroyed.

“Why become a god if you’re just going to destroy everything?”

“What else is there to do?” A frown turned down the edges of Kefka’s red lips. “It does almost seem like a waste, I know. All this power and nothing really to do with it.”

“You could create something?”

Kefka let out a little snort. “Create something, he says.” He looked at Kuja. The setting sun was casting shadows across his face, but his blue eyes seemed to glow in their own little pools of darkness. “Who knows? Maybe when I’ve gained all the power on this world, I’ll just blow it up and go to another world!”

“And start all over again?”

“Yes! Uwee hee hee!” The frown was replaced by another brilliantly warped grin. “And start all over again!” He tilted his head. “But in the meantime, I must find something to do with you.”

“I would prefer it if I could keep all my limbs intact, if you could.” Kefka giggled at this. He bowed his head, and Kuja watched the long blue chocobo feather bob as Kefka muttered to himself. After a minute or two he looked up again.

“What do you want to do?” Kefka asked.

“I want to go home.” Well, truthfully Kuja wanted to go anywhere that wasn’t here.

There was a chuckle. “The Espers’ world is completely unacessable now, if there’s anything left of it.”

Kuja felt a fresh sinking feeling bloom in his stomach. What if he was really trapped in this doomed world? It would be like being condemned to stay on the old Terra once Gaia had been assimilated.

“I’ll find a way,” Kuja said softly. Kefka chuckled. The Genome sighed and looked out the windows again. The eastern half of the sky was dark now, and the rest of it looked like it was on fire.

“These peasants are very troublesome,” Kefka said offhandedly. “I destroy their little pissant towns and villages, and they keep rebuilding. It’s really really REALLY annoying!”

“Then why not kill them all?”

“I try!” Kefka smacked a white fist into a white palm. “But they’re as resiliant as... as...”

“Oglops?” Kuja offered. The other man blinked and looked up at him.

“What’s an oglop?”

“A type of bug,” Kuja said. He mimed out the shape of the insect. “Disgusting little creatures that are hard to get rid of.”

“Yes! Uwee, that’s exactly what those stupid little creatures are like!” Kefka nodded vigorously, his ponytail bobbing behind his head. When he looked at Kuja again, there was something almost childlike and innocent in his expression. “I’m hungry. Do you want something to eat?”

 

Kefka warped them to another room some floors lower in the tower. He was very quiet while they ate, focusing on destroying the food before him rather than attempting to make any conversation. Kuja’s stomach kept pinching uncomfortably with something that wasn’t hunger. By the time Kefka had finished his food Kuja was still picking away at his own plate.

“Kefka, how did you become a god?”

The blond looked at him suspciously. “Why should I tell you? Don’t need you trying to steal away my power!”

“Oh, I hadn’t planned on it,” Kuja said. “I was just curious. I mean, you weren’t born a god, were you?”

“I was destined to become a god!” Kefka said. “Uwee, it was fated... I was the one meant to have the goddesses’ power.”

Kuja looked down at the fork in his hand. “How do you know?”

Kefka peered at him. “How old are you?”

He blinked, looking across the table. “Seventeen. Almost eighteen, really.”

“My, my, you really are young!”

A blush was creeping onto his cheeks, so he remained focused on his plate. “How old are you? You don’t really look much older than I am.”

“I’m thirty... something.” Kefka shrugged. “Thirty-something. I don’t really remember quite how old I am anymore.”

“You don’t look that old,” Kuja said again.

“I suppose that’s due to the Magitek.”

Kuja blinked, looking up at the other man. “The magic what?”

Kefka’s pale eyes widened slowly, and then he threw his head back and burst out laughing. A tightly curled white fist slammed onto the tabletop. “First you don’t know what an Esper is, and now you don’t know what Magitek is either! Next you’re going to tell me that you’ve never heard of the War of the Magi.”

Kuja bit his lower lip. At his silence, Kefka tilted his head back down and looked at the younger man keenly.

“Did you hit your head on something? That would explain the general amnesia.”

“I have not lost my memory,” Kuja said. “I just never knew about all those things before.”

The look Kefka was giving him was, at best, very skeptical. Kuja tapped his fork on the edge of the plate.

“You were going to tell me about how you became a god?”

Kefka perked. “Oh, yes! Where was I?”

“You didn’t start.”

“Oh.” His thin blond brows drew together. “Well... actually, I suppose it started when I was about the same age that you are now. I was eighteen or so... maybe nineteen. I was a new soldier in the Imperial army. I... well, to be honest my father bought my way into the army. I couldn’t really fight or anything.”

“Some of us just can’t.”

“Mm-hmm. I was very bright though, if I remember correctly.”

Kuja had his doubts on the consistency of Kefka’s memory, but didn’t say anything.

“Since I could barely handle a gun without injuring myself or bystanders, I was sent to help out at the Magitek Research Facility.”

“Which was...”

“The place where the Empire researched ways of extracting magic power from Espers.”

“And Espers are...”

Kefka squinted at him. “You’re going to make this as difficult as you can, aren’t you?”

Kuja shrugged. Kefka sighed loudly, drumming his nails on the table.

“Yes, it’s like explaining it to a four year old. Shut up.” His gaze, which had been focused on some spot on the stony ceiling, slowly returned to Kuja. He smiled faintly. “About a thousand years ago there was a great magic based war. The War of the Magi, as we tend to call it today.” Kefka got up, hop-walking over to the sidebar. He poured himself another glass of wine, and returned to the table. “Eat your food, it’s getting cold.” Kefka sipped. “The three great goddesses came down and stopped the war by force. Some of the humans who got caught in the crossfire of all this magic. They were... changed. They gained great magical powers. They became Espers. The goddesses, upon seeing what they’d done to the world, turned themselves into statues, to wait a thousand years for me to come along and claim their power.” Kefka giggled.

“Where are the goddesses now?”

“Upstairs,” Kefka said in a casual tone. He gestured upwards with his glass, and then took a noisy slurp of his wine. “The Espers were persecuted by normal humans, and created their own little world in a pocket dimension or something. For a thousand years the world was more or less without magic.”

“How drab.”

“Indeed. Now, a few years before I got into the army, Emperor Gestahl stumbled across the Espers’ hiding place. He managed to snag quite a few of them before the Espers kicked him out and sealed the gate to their world.” Kefka paused, holding his wineglass between his long fingernails. He watched the surface for a moment, quiet. “The Espers that Emperor Gestahl captured were taken to the Magitek Research Facility in Vector. There Professor Cid worked to find a way to extract the magic from Espers and give it to humans to use. Gestahl dreamed of having an army of Magitek Knights that could smash any resistance they might come across.” Kefka sipped his wine. “Not that there was really anyone out in the world to oppose him. The Empire controlled nearly everything, except for a few piddling countries like Figaro and Doma.”

“And that’s where you came in?”

“More or less. I was sent there to act as an assistant to Professor Cid. In time, naturally, Cid came up with a plausible means of extracting the power from an Esper. Emperor Gestahl wanted the procedure tested. And I... volunteered.” He muttered into his glass. “Pressured into it might be a better description of what happened.”

“So... what happened?” Kuja picked at his lasagna, which had gotten cold while he was listening to Kefka.

The older man exhaled slowly. “The procedure worked, more or less. Of course... not everything went as dear Professor Cid planned. But I got my magic power. And, oh, how wonderful it was!” He giggled. “They were terrified of me! Tried to lock me up and throw away the key, but that didn’t work.”

“And that was when you were my age?” 

“Mm, yes, more or less. The Magitek infusion slowed my aging a bit and also had a few small effects on my appearance.” The icy blue eyes set in their white and red mask turned on Kuja again. “I used to be quite handsome, you know! We can’t all necessarily be beautiful and powerful at the same time. Something has to give.”

“I’d like to try,” Kuja said softly. Kefka snorted and waved his hand.

“You can’t even remember what magic you know, so you’re in no position to go and have aspirations.” Kefka scratched his nose. The point of his nail snagged on the white skin, and a streak of red appeared on his nose. The blood oozed for a moment, and then the wound simply disappeared. Kuja blinked. How had he managed that? It was as if his body had cast Cure on itself without him having to instruct it.

“But how did you end up... like you are now?”

“I’m getting there!” Kefka snapped. “Impatient little brat!” He steepled his nails in front of his face. “To cut past a lot of boring things, in time Gestahl learned about the goddess statues. He decided to get their power for himself. But I decided that I was the one meant to have the power. Sometimes that’s just how the cookie crumbles, like they say. So I killed Gestahl and kicked him off the floating island where the statues had appeared.”

“Classy.”

“Wasn’t it, though?” He giggled. “I took control of the goddess statues and used their power to become a god! It was quite simple, really. Just a manner of manipulating the wills of others.”

“I see.”

“And since I know you’re dying to ask and are just being polite, yes, I did the wonderful redecorating.” Kefka looked in the direction of one of the dark windows. “I will destroy everything! Reshaping the face of the planet was just the beginning. There still so much more to be done...” Kefka reached for his wine glass but missed, and knocked it over. The contents of the glass, that same thick red stuff he’d given to Kuja before, spilled out onto the pale blue tablecloth. Kuja watched it spread, as did Kefka.

“Pity,” Kefka said, setting the glass upright. “I hate wasting good wine like that. Especially since it’s harder to come by these days.”

“What shall we do with it?”

“Mmm, nothing. I’ll deal with it later.” Kefka giggled. “I’ve decided, little Esper-”

“My name is-”

“Kuja, I know. Don’t interrupt. I’ve decided that tonight you won’t be sleeping in your cozy little cell, or on that even more cozy bed downstairs.”

Kuja blinked, tearing his gaze away from the tablecloth. “I won’t?”

“No, you won’t.” He giggled again.

“Then, where...?”

Kefka leaned across the table, reaching out with his long nails to touch Kuja’s cheek. “Tonight, you’ll be sleeping with me.”


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

I will not go to sleep, Kuja thought. No matter what happens, no matter how tired I get, I will not fall asleep in this man’s presence. The thought of allowing himself to do such a thing was, well, unthinkable. Who knew what horrible things might be done to him while he slumbered? Hell, who knew what kind of messed up dreams would creep into his head?

And yet here he was, standing in what apparently served as Kefka’s sleeping quarters. He would hardly call it a bedroom, any more than he would’ve given the cramped chamber he slept in at Bran Bal the same name. The room was just a quarter wedge of the tower round, small and efficient and good just for sleeping. It was dark--there weren’t any windows. Perhaps Kefka didn’t want to have to worry about seeing any of the peoples that he hated when he first woke up in the morning. Or perhaps he just slept at strange hours.

Or some combination of the two, Kuja thought. He was alone in the room. Kefka had not yet returned from leaving to change his clothes. He turned slowly, surveying the small room. Unlike many of the other rooms he had seen so far in the tower, this one had a rug covering its stone floor. It was colored a dark red and decorated with a strange, twisting golden filigree. There were two lamps on the left wall, offering their gentle light to whomever had been kind enough to not snuff them out. A small night table stood next to the bed. Its surface was dusty, except for a small circle near the middle where the lamp had been moved. The bed itself took up most of the room. It was a big four poster bed. The corners rose in spires that seemed to be trying to stab the ceiling.

Kuja took two steps to the bed--that was all it took to reach its side. He reached out a curious hand. The covers were dyed a dark red, as if they had been soaked in blood. They were stuffed with feathers and soft to the touch. One of the corners had been turned back, and Kuja could see the covers underneath. Kuja was expecting more of the same dark bloody color, but the red of the sheets was brighter, like the gleaming red jewel that still graced the manacle on his right wrist. He touched the sheets. They were soft and clean under his fingertips.

“Were you expecting something fouler?” Kefka’s voice echoed and filled the room as he appeared in the doorway. He was wearing the moogle slippers again, but had traded his garish daywear for pajamas done in a subdued dark blue hue. He was still wearing his makeup, though, and Kuja was again not sure what to make of the man.

“Not exactly, no,” Kuja said. He looked back to the bed. “I don’t get any pajamas?”

“You don’t need any,” Kefka said. He held out a hand. “You know where the bathroom is in case you need it, right?”

The Genome nodded. “Yes, I know.” He had taken a bathroom break on the way down the stairs.

Kefka still had his hand out. “Give me your cloak and get into bed.”

Kuja swallowed. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. Now, quit stalling. Uwee hee hee...”

He let out a sigh so heavy that it nearly made his lungs hurt. Kefka’s eyes gave him a fresh once-over as he undid the clasps and pulled away the thick fabric. The night air was cold in the tower and it bit at Kuja’s skin.

“Hurry up and get in, you won’t feel the cold, I promise!” Kefka giggled, taking the cloak and folding it over his arm. The bundle disappeared, spirited off to wherever Kefka sent things when he banished them from his sight.

Kuja pulled back the covers, giving the bed’s interior a quick once over. This was not really due to Kefka. The habit had been born on Gaia. He’d had too many run ins with less than clean beds while on Gaia. The thought of having to sleep with Kefka was bad enough, but if he’d had to share the bed with bugs too he probably would have just resorted to begging to sleep on the floor. As it was, the bed was clean inside. Kuja hesitated again at the bed’s edge, delaying what was going to happen for as long as possible.

“Some time tonight, little Esper,” Kefka said. He poked Kuja in the elbow with his nail. Kuja sighed, pulled his tangle of silver violet hair over his shoulder, and climbed into bed.

Kuja was surprised. The sheets themselves had been cool to the touch, but once he was between them he felt quite warm and cozy. The bed shifted and Kefka climbed in next to him. Kuja glanced over at the older man, unsure of what he should do. There was about two feet of space between them. Why someone who normally slept alone would want such a massive bed was beyond him, but...

“Lie back into the pillows,” Kefka said. It was more an order than a suggestion. Or at least, it seemed that way to the young Genome. He felt compelled to do as he was told, and flopped back into the pillows. He was careful of his hair as he did so, being careful not to get it pinned. He really hated when that happened and it pulled painfully. Kuja could feel Kefka’s eyes watching him. He glanced over at the man, who smiled and looked up. Kuja tilted his head up to follow the gaze.

“Oh...” Kuja breathed the sound, realizing that Kefka was looking at the ceiling. For a moment Kuja thought that it had gone altogether, but then he made out the line of a stone. The ceiling was enchanted to look like the night sky. He stared up at it, wondering at the stars. He had spent some time outside at night on Gaia, and none of the constellations here looked familiar. They weren’t similar to those on Terra either. Was he really on another world? More and more it was seeming like a distinct possibility. The Zona Shift had worked better than he had wanted it to.

Kefka was pointing out constellations. “See, that’s Leviathan. It’s got the long body like that. And it’s chasing down Ifrit.”

“Where’s Ifrit?” Kuja asked.

“Oh, look. See Leviathan’s head? If you follow that line, it goes to the start of Ifrit’s horns.”

Kuja followed the direction of Kefka’s pointing. “Oh. I see. Interesting.”

“You’ve never looked at the stars before?”

“Not these ones, no.”

“They’re the same as the ones outside,” Kefka said. Kuja bit his lip, tilting his head back into the pillow.

“I guess I just never really looked at them before.”

“It’s alright. Uwee... I’m sure people who grew up in Vector never really got to look at the stars. All the lights in the city would have blocked them out.”

Kuja said nothing at this.

“I never really got to look at them before...” Kefka giggled. “I need my own constellation, though. In fact, they should all be redone in my honor!”

“Fitting for a god.”

“That’s right!” Kefka sat up, still gazing up to the ceiling. “I should be utterly inescapable, even in the stars!” After a moment he flopped back into the pillows, giggling. “Uwee, tell me something, little Esper...”

Kuja looked at him. His profile stood out sharply in the dim light, cut white like a strange statue amongst all the red and shadows. “What?”

“Have you ever had sex before?”

He blinked. “What? Why ask that?”

“Uwee, just curious...”

Kuja was sure that the dim lighting did nothing to hide the stain of red on his cheeks. “No, I haven’t, if you have to know.”

Kefka giggled. “Didn’t think so.”

He blushed darker. “What makes you think I haven’t?”

“Just don’t seem the type, uwee hee hee...”

Kuja swallowed, mouth suddenly dry. “You’re not going to...”

Kefka waved a hand. “I already told you, you’re not my type.”

He looked down at the covers, holding them tightly to his chest. “I’m not entirely sure I believe you.”

“Ha! Suit yourself.” Kefka scooted closer, reaching out and touching Kuja’s hair lightly. “You’re a pretty boy, I’m surprised no one has taken advantage of you.”

A frown flitter across Kuja’s face. “Trust me, a few have tried.”

“What stopped them? You don’t really seem like the sort to shove someone away... “ Kefka giggled again as he moved closer.

“Most people aren’t as resilient to magic as they’d like to think,” Kuja said softly. “It was enough to scare most of them away.”

“Ah, so do you know some magic? I thought you said you didn’t know any at all!”

He blushed again. “I know a little. I just haven’t been taught anything really useful.”

Kefka’s hand moved underneath the covers, and the pads of his fingers touched Kuja’s bare arm. “I could teach you more.”

“Would you?”

“Well, it’s only fitting, after all... I might as well see what I can teach you, if I’m going to figure out what exactly I can get out of you.” 

Kuja tried to ignore the unsettled feeling in his stomach when Kefka talked about that. The man’s hand strayed across his chest, touching feather light as it moved down the lean line of his stomach. Kuja shivered despite the warmth of the bed.

I will not fall asleep, he thought again to himself. I cannot.

Kefka sat up, leaning over him. His ponytail fell over his left shoulder and the end pooled on the dark red of the cover like a gold chain. Despite the protection of the covers, Kuja still felt horribly exposed. His grip tightened on the comforter, clutching it a little closer to his chest. As Kefka leaned over his face fell into the shadows again, but his eyes glowed with their own inner fire. They were the color of aquamarine, Kuja thought, and for a moment he remembered the magic stones that he needed to get back to Gaia. But how was he ever going to find them, stuck in this tower as he was? He was never going to get out, never going to escape and get back to Gaia, and what was that weird twitch of malice on Kefka’s face and why was he leaning in so closely? Oh gods, he was way too close for comfort, their noses were nearly touch, and--

Kefka’s hand touched Kuja’s chin lightly as he pressed his red lips to the pale pink ones of the young sorcerer. His fingers clenched for a moment, tilting Kuja’s face up to meet his own. Kefka’s lips were sweet and tasting of the wine they’d consumed with dinner. They were firm against Kuja’s lips and parted ever so slightly. Something electric and nearly painful shot through Kuja’s body at the contact. But it wasn’t really all that bad, and certainly not as bad as Kuja had always feared a kiss would be.

But why was Kefka kissing him?

His heart was beating loud in his ears, and he was just starting to count the pulse when Kefka pulled away. The glowing eyes opened, looking down at him. Curiosity was there in those blue lights. Curiosity and something else, something harder to pin down. Something that Kuja was afraid to try and pin down. He turned his face away, swallowing back a lump in his throat. Kefka closed the distance between them again, pressing another kiss to the line of Kuja’s jaw. Then lower, resting his lips above the frantic, confused beat of the young man’s carotid artery.

“Stop.” Kuja could barely get the word out. Kefka wavered there, lips pressed against his throat.

“Why should I?” Kefka murmured. His words were hot against Kuja’s skin.

“Because... I... I don’t want anything else.”

It felt like a long time before Kefka said anything.

“I see,” he whispered. “I see.” He moved away, settling back into a pile of red pillows. “Good night then, little Esper.”

Kuja saw the lights of his eyes disappear as the pale lids lowered, and then the lamps went dark.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

When dawn arrived, Kuja was completely unaware of it. Kefka’s sleeping chamber was completely black. Without the lamps they might as well have been in a tomb. He lay, brain working in fuzzy circles over this problem, before his eyes reopened to the darkness.

He’d fallen asleep.

Kuja hadn’t meant to. He’d sworn to himself that he wouldn’t fall asleep, not while in bed with Kefka. That strange kiss had left Kuja feeling even more unsettled than getting into the bed in the first place had. He had lain there for a long time after the lights had went out, staring into the blackness. At some point he must have just... fallen asleep. There was no excusing it or apologizing about it. He just had. And he had not dreamed, or at least, he didn’t remember dreaming. Sleep had simply been peaceful darkness. He had not slept in such a cozy warm fashion in several days.

Warmth. He noticed it again now, as his brain struggled further into wakefulness. But now the warmth was not just from the bed linens. No, there was something else. He realized, with a faint ping of dread, that Kefka was pressed up next to him. Kuja was still on his back, as he had been when the lights had gone out. Lying on his side Kefka was very close, his arms twined around Kuja’s slim waist. His pointy nose was pressed against the back of Kuja’s shoulder, and one of his legs was bent with the knee touching Kuja’s left leg just above the thigh.

Kuja’s first reaction was to try to move away, but he couldn’t. Kefka’s arms were locked tight around him. He was as unmovable as a corpse in rigor mortis, and Kuja found himself stuck there, waiting for his captor to rouse from whatever peculiar dreams he might have. But Kefka was quiet next to him, silent in fact, and Kuja wondered if he dreamed at all.

He found himself straining to hear. At first all he could make out was the pounding of his heart and his own breathing. The thick stone walls of the tower swallowed all other sound that might have crept into the room. Kuja held his breath for a moment, listening. He had to strain to hear the faint whistling sound of Kefka’s breathing. The man was breathing through his nose, slow and low. This really was like sleeping with a warm corpse, Kuja thought with a shiver.

After an undetermined stretch of time, Kefka made a soft noise in his throat. His grip softened, then slacked as he muttered something in his sleep and rolled away from Kuja. The younger man took the opportunity to get up and crawl out of bed. In the utter blackness it took him another moment to regain his bearings and find his way to the door. Out in the curving stairwell the light was still dim. He opted for climbing up, since he knew what was the levels above contained, and wasn’t sure he wanted to find out on his own what was below.

He climbed the spiralling stairwell until it reached the observation room. There he was surprised to find the place full of a soft rosy light. It was only dawn, not later in the day like Kuja had thought it might be. He went to the northern curve of windows and looked out. The approaching sun had bruised the sky and cast the heavy layer of clouds in a strange light. All the world seemed to be blanketed in a layer of blood hued mist. Then the sun broke the horizon somewhere under the clouds, and the colors changed. The color of blood faded, and the soft pastels of dawn returned.  
While he watched, Kuja got the distinct impression that he himself was being watched by someone else. He turned away from the window, eyes sweeping the empty expanse of the observatory. He was alone. The only other thing in the room was the strange orb of light at the chamber’s center.

Was the light watching him? No, that was silly. Whatever the light was, it didn’t appear to be sentient. It was just a ball of light, after all...

“Pretty, isn’t it?”

Kuja jumped, looking over at the entrance to the observatory. Kefka stood there, still in his pajamas. The Genome found it mildly unsettling that Kefka’s makeup remained unsmudged. He turned quickly back to the window.

“Yes, it is,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“Oh, it’s alright, uwee hee...” He padded into the chamber. “You shouldn’t come up here by yourself. It isn’t safe for someone like you.”

Kuja nodded faintly, not asking what he meant.

“Did you sleep well?”

“I didn’t mean to sleep,” Kuja muttered.

“All the same, did you sleep well?”

“I guess I did.” He shrugged. “I don’t remember.”

Kefka giggled. “That’s good, I guess.”

Kuja felt compelled to ask. “Did you sleep well?”

A smirk pulled at his red lips. “I don’t remember.”

“You... sleep very quietly,” Kuja said, turning back to the window.

“I don’t snore?” Kefka looked genuinely surprised. Kuja blinked, looking over his shoulder for a moment. He had to squash the instinct to laugh.

“No, no, you didn’t snore,” he said, smiling despite himself. Kefka poked himself in the nose.

“I always thought I did. Never really asked anyone before.” He poked himself again, giggling. “I wonder if I could learn to snore in my sleep?”

“Why would you want to do that?”

Kefka shrugged. “To be more obnoxious?”

“You’re already pretty obnoxious, Kefka.”

“Uwee hee hee!” Kefka clapped his hands, and the noise made Kuja’s body jerk in response. “You know, you’re not the first person to tell me that.”

“Somehow I’m not surprised.”

Kefka hummed some off tune song. “It seems a much nicer thing when you say it, though.”

Kuja kept his face turned to the glass, hoping that Kefka wouldn’t notice his blush. “That’s nice.”

The older man hopped over, stepping up on a little ledge that circled the room. He leaned, peering out the windows.

“What are you doing?”

“Looking. Isn’t that obvious?” His nose pressed against the glass, and his blonde brows furrowed a bit. “Stupid little bugs. Already up so earlier in the morning and working.”

Kuja looked in the direction that Kefka’s gaze was focused, but all he could really see was the clouds. “I don’t see anything.”

“Well, uwee, you’re not really looking.”

He glanced between Kefka and the glass. “I’m pretty sure my eyes are open.”

“That isn’t what I meant,” Kefka said. He rolled his eyes. “Here, let me show you.” He looked out at the glass again, his hand reaching out and grabbing Kuja’s arm.

His vision blurred and flickered a bit like the screens on the Invincible when the computers decided to misbehave. Then it cleared, and it felt like he was looking into one of those same viewing screens. He was looking down on a village. It looked similar to what he had seen in Tzen, but the buildings were slightly different in design. There was a building made of stone, half torn to the ground. A group of people, men and women alike, were busily working in the early morning light. The women were mixing mortar, and the men were carefully putting stones into place and rebuilding the walls of the damaged structure. A few children darted through the scene. They were covered in dust and laughing.

Then the scene blurred, and they were in another village. Nearly all the buildings here were destroyed. His vision scanned the charred structures and uneven ground. There were several children playing in front of the door of a building far on the west side of the village. A young woman appeared in the doorway. She had hair the color of jade. There was a sad smile on her face. She was watching the children play, but remained separate from them. There was something distinctly unusual about her, but it was hard to tell just what exactly that something was.

The woman tilted her face up, almost seeming to look at the distant observers. And then the scene disappeared, returning to the view of endless clouds visible outside the windows.

Kuja gasped, his arm jerking. He was unable to pull his arm free from Kefka’s grasp, and instead twisted his body to move away from him.

“What was that?”

A smile played on his lips. “That was really seeing.”

Again he looked between the windows and Kefka. “But how did you do that?”

“Magic, more or less,” Kefka said. “It’s not really a spell. Just a manipulation of will.”

“A manipulation of will...”

“Yes.” He gave a curt nod, letting go of Kuja’s arm. “You will find, little Esper, that most people have very weak wills. They are easily manipulated into doing what you want them to do.”

“Well, yes, I knew that.” It was a fact that Garland had told him before. In order to get things on Gaia to go the way he wanted them to, he was going to have to learn how to manipulate people. 

“But I can learn to do that?”

“Perhaps.” Kefka smiled slyly. “It can be quite fun... especially sometimes when you catch people doing things they shouldn’t be.”

“Like what?”

“Oh, cheating on their spouses, stealing things, being mean to their chocobos...”

“You mean you care what they do? You care when they do things like that?”

He nodded. “Well, sometimes there isn’t much else to do. I watch and judge.” Kefka giggled.

“Just like a god,” Kuja said to himself. “What happens when you judge that people should be punished?”

Kefka smiled wickedly and turned away from the windows. He hopped down, holding his arms open to the light at the center of the room. “When they are to be punished, I use the Light of Judgment on them! Uwee hee hee hee ha!” He rushed over to the light, eyes unfocused.

“Is that what you call that thing?”

“Yes! Yes!” Kefka’s nails brushed the surface of the light, and energy crackled between them and the orb. It was difficult to say which was the source of the energy.

Kuja watched thoughtfully. “So, is that what you used to destroy Tzen?”

“Yes!” Kefka circled the orb, giggling loudly. “It’s quite fun, really...” He hopped about a bit, then stopped and turned to Kuja. “I should go get dressed.”

Kuja considered the man’s pajamas, and thought of his usual clothing. The pajamas were cut a bit too large for Kefka, but were still visually more appealing than the usual mishmash of colors that Kefka tended to use to adorn himself. And yet... Kefka seemed like an entirely different person when he wasn’t in his more garish attire.

But which was the better person?

“Aren’t you going to eat breakfast first?”

Kefka waved his hand. “I don’t eat breakfast.”

Kuja frowned as his stomach let out a growl. Kefka laughed.

“You’ll just have to wait a few hours. I don’t eat breakfast. And I don’t make exceptions for Espers.” 

He sighed. “I guess I can wait.”

“You don’t really have much of a choice. Unless... uwee, well, I can give you *something* to eat...”

Kuja couldn’t hide the scarlet on his cheeks this time. “You... you... pervert!”

Kefka laughed loudly, hopping back over to Kuja. “Come, I want you to help me in the shower.”

“Let me be!” Kuja cried, flustered. He tried to keep his hands out of Kefka’s grasp but was too slow. The older man pulled him close, nails digging into the soft skin at Kuja’s wrists. “You’re hurting me, stop it!” 

Kefka didn’t let go. When he spoke again his words were hissed out between his teeth. “You seem to keep forgetting who you’re with, little Esper.” He gave Kuja’s wrist a painful squeeze. “You’re going to do what I tell you to, and that’s that.”

Kuja winced as a spot of blood appeared around the tip of Kefka’s nail. “And if I refuse?”

There was that twitch of malice in his features again. But the contortion was brief, and when he looked at Kuja again the murderous look was gone from his eyes. Instead, he just looked dangerous. “You don’t have the choice of refusal.”

“So you’ll just do the thinking for me now, is that it?”

“That’s right.”

“Then what about my mind, what am I supposed to do with that? I can’t just turn my brain off, you know.”

The aquamarine eyes looked at him, lighting up. “Give your mind to me.”

He shrunk back, shaking his head. “I can’t do that, Kefka. I just can’t.” He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head again. “I don’t even want to--I don’t even like you! You’re a...a....”

“A monster?” Kefka offered, his expression dark. Kuja swallowed.

“Something like that.” He cried out as Kefka gave him a shake. Blood was trailing down from his wrist now and leaving a leaving a thin red trail on his middle finger. “Stop...”

“No, I don’t think so.”

 

Kefka did not bother with dragging Kuja down the stairs. He simply used his favored teleportation magic, depositing them in a small room. When Kuja’s eyes adjusted to the sudden shift to the dim lighting, he recognized it as the same bathroom Kefka had shown him to the night before. It was small and efficient, with just a toilet and sink and shower stall. There wasn’t even a mirror in here, which had struck Kuja as odd the night before. But now he was too taken up with his captor’s actions to worry about a lack of mirror.

The blond shoved him into the stall. The shower sprang to life on its own.

“Aah!” The water was cold and painful as it struck his skin. He reflexively moved away from the spray, but Kefka pushed him back under again.

“Stay there!” He ordered, still standing outside the shower. Kuja had to deny every motor instinct in his body to stay there. A shiver twitched its way down his spine. Kefka watched with a smirk, carefully unbuttoning his pajama top. Kuja felt detached as he watched the shorter man strip. Kefka was already erect, and the sight of it sent a hundred panicked possibilities into Kuja’s mind. This wouldn’t end well, would it?

“Stand against the wall,” Kefka said. Kuja was glad to, because leaning against the tile got him out of the water. But the tile was bitterly cold, and as Kuja’s back pressed against it he felt a strange pulls on his wrists. The manacle on his right wrist clinked against the tile. When he tried to move his arms he found the held fast against the wall by some invisible hand.

“Wh-what are you doing?” Kuja cried. Kefka was working at the clasps in his hair. Eventually they came free and his hair fell down in a twisting gold curtain.

“I’m taking a shower, what does it look like?” Kefka said. He ran his gaze down Kuja’s front, smirking. “What I chose to do in there is completely up to me.”

Kuja found himself staring at Kefka as the older man stepped into the water. His skin was the same unearthly pale all the way down. Indeed, it was nearly flawlessly white, except for a myriad of faint pink scars running in a disturbing crosshatch down his chest. They looked like fingernail marks, Kuja thought.

Kefka leaned through the icy stream of water. His lips came to rest on Kuja’s wrist. The Genome shivered as Kefka’s tongue slid out to lick the blood from his hand.

“Little Esper...” The tone of Kefka’s voice wavered in pitch. “...I must teach you to understand, you belong to me now... you are the servant of a god.”

Kuja didn’t want this. He hadn’t wanted any of this at all. He just wanted to get away, to get back to Gaia, to Terra, to anywhere but this forsaken place...

“Do you understand, Kuja?”

Kuja’s lips parted, but he was unsure of what to say. “I... do...”

Kefka looked at him. The shower had drenched the right side of his hair, and some of the water had trickled down that side of his face. It was causing his makeup to run, and the red streaked in little bloody rivulets down the curve of his cheek. It was unnerving, and Kuja squeezed his eyes shut again.

“I don’t think you do.”

Kuja gasped, eyes flying open. Kefka had grabbed his tail, tugging it. The tug wasn’t painful, but the limb was still sensitive and Kuja quickly found that it had been immobilized like his arms. The blond man had dropped to his knees, and was now at eye level with Kuja’s bellybutton.

“You’ve a lovely body, little Esper,” Kefka said. His hands came to rest of the curve of Kuja’s hips. Kuja stared down at him, eyes wide. “But you already knew that, didn’t you?” He let out a low chuckle, pressing a kiss to Kuja’s inner thigh.

“Please don’t...”

Kefka looked up at him, lips moving against his smooth skin. “You are utterly useless to me as you are now... but my, the terror in your eyes is beautiful.”

He let out a choked sob that he hadn’t realized he’d been holding in. “Please! I don’t want this!”

Kefka leaned back on his heels, looking up at the younger man. “If you had been more cooperative, then this wouldn’t be so bad.” His right hand slid down to touch Kuja’s left thigh. The tips of his nails touched his skin so lightly that Kuja’s left leg started to give way. His right leg twitched in response. It was such a nerve-triggered action of his body that Kuja wasn’t sure that he could have done it any better intentionally. Kuja’s right knee came up hard, striking Kefka in the chin.

The blond man let out noise that usually only came from injured chocobos, losing his balance and sprawling out across the floor of the shower. Kuja sagged against his invisible restraints. He couldn’t escape, despite whatever best intentions his leg had harbored for him.

“You little-!” Kefka recovered from the strike faster than Kuja had expected. He sat up, a hand going to his mouth. The shower was causing all of his makeup to run now, and for a moment Kuja could not tell what was what on his face. The white hand moved away, and Kuja saw that the inside of the other man’s lip was bleeding.

“I’m sorry!” He wasn’t, he didn’t know why he was apologizing, the bastard deserved it, but he apologized anyways.

“You’re going to be sorry, you little wretch!” Kefka stood under the water, glaring at Kuja. The shower slowly washed away his makeup. First in red streams down his face, then in wandering patterns down his chest and legs. Quickly enough, though, the last traces of it were gone, and all that remained was the white corpse of a living god. For a minute or two Kefka’s head was drooped, as if he were watching the red drain away. He raised a hand to his mouth again, and Kuja felt the tingle of a Cure spell in the air. Kefka spat, and Kuja flinched as a bit of blood flecked onto his leg. Kefka slowly looked up. His pupils were dilated to the point that his eyes looked black.

Kefka rose up on his toes, grabbing Kuja’s chin and pulling his face down. Kuja tasted iron as the older man kissed him, and was still recovering from the taste of the blood when he stepped away. He was startled to feel the hold on his limbs slack. His arms dropped as if he were holding lead weights in each hand, and at the sudden shift his knees buckled and he lost his balance. Kuja wound up on his hands and knees at the bottom of the shower, the cold water stinging at his backside. Once on the floor of the shower he found he again could not move.

Kefka knelt behind him, blocking some of the painful spray. “I’m going to teach you your place in this world, little Esper.” His hand came down hard on the curve of Kuja’s bottom, drawing a yelp from the younger man. “And every time you forget about it, I’m going to remind you.” Another strike. “And if you don’t like it, well... uwee hee hee... you are always more than welcome to spend more time in your little stone cell.”

Kuja started to think about how much he hated that little stone cell, but the thought was stopped dead in its tracks as Kefka moved behind him. He rested his erection on the curve of Kuja’s ass. It rubbed just between the cheeks, and the head bumped at the base of Kuja’s tail. He bit his lip. Not like, this, no, he had scared off all those perverts on Gaia just so something like this wouldn’t happen! And here he was, kneeling on the cold floor of a shower, about to get... to get...

“So beautiful,” Kefka murmured. “Truly fitting for a god!”

He moved again, and the head of his cock pressed against Kuja’s entrance. The young man bit his lower lip. He could feel the tight ring of muscle stretching open as Kefka pushed in. A whimper escaped from Kuja, but Kefka did not stop. The head was in now, linking them together. It hurt, and Kuja was sure that Kefka was going to split him open and leave him to bleed to death here on the floor of the shower and--

“Please, stop!” Kuja cried out. His voice echoed back into his ears, sounding alarmingly shrill. It was enough to make Kefka stop and listen. Kuja sucked in a lung full of air, then broke into a desperate plea. “Please, I’ll be your Esper, I’ll be yours, I’ll do whatever it is you want me to. Just, please, stop!”

It was not the promise Kuja wanted to be making, but if it kept him in once piece until he got back to Gaia, then so be it.

Kefka paused, still just inside of Kuja. The shower still splashed down on them, and the cold was starting to make Kuja’s knees feel numb. Without withdrawing he leaned over Kuja. The movement pushed him in a bit more, and Kuja squeaked in alarm.

“You’ll be just mine?” Kefka asked. His voice was skeptical.

“Just yours,” Kuja whispered.

“And you’ll do whatever I ask you to, without argument?”

He bit his lower lip again, and nodded.

“Say it!”

“I...I will,” Kuja whispered. Kefka made a thoughtful noise.

“I still want to fuck you,” he said. “It seems like such a waste to get this far and not finish.”

“It hurts,” Kuja said in protest.

“It’s supposed to hurt, you twit!”

“No, it’s not!” He shook his head. “Sex is supposed to feel good!” He turned his head, looking over his shoulder at Kefka. To his surprise, the older man was staring at him with an expression of dumbfounded shock. Then his brow wrinkled.

“You’ve never even had sex before, you stupid little Esper, what would you know?”

“I...” Kuja frowned, looking away. “Why would everyone want to do it if it’s such a bad thing?”

Kefka was quiet at this retort.

“You’re a god,” Kuja murmured. “You shouldn’t treat your subjects like this.”

Overhead the water stopped. The sudden silence rang even more loudly in Kuja’s ears than the madman’s laughter might have. Kuja waited, hoping that Kefka would pull out.  
But he didn’t. Instead Kefka jerked his hips forward, slowly pushing in. A groan escaped from Kuja as he felt Kefka spreading him open.

“Oh, god!”

Kefka’s voice dropped to a purr. “Yes, that’s right. You’re being given a gift from a god!”

He pressed in until he was buried to the hilt. Kuja sucked in a breath, the muscles in his stomach clenching as his back arched away from the penetration. Kefka ground his hips against Kuja’s rear. The young man heard a soft, excited grunt come from his elder, and the man’s nails clenched at his shoulders. There was a sudden spreading of warmth inside of him. Kuja gasped.

“Kefka, did you just--”

“Consider it your master’s blessing,” Kefka said, groaning. “My little Esper, you feel simply... divine.”

His master’s blessing... Kuja felt a tingle of magic spreading up his spine. His brain went foggy for a moment, and he barely registered Kefka pulling out of him. He was still sore, but then the white fingertips pressed against him and he heard the casting of a Cure spell. The pain ebbed, and Kuja felt the bonds on his limbs release. He sunk to the floor, unable to support himself. The shower began to flow again, but the water was warm and soothing this time. Kefka stood, and then pulled Kuja up into his surprisingly strong arms.

Kuja stared at the tiled wall as Kefka scrubbed him with a sponge. The man was cheerful and giggling like usual. It was as if it nothing had happened. But Kuja’s brain, in its fog, thought: My master’s blessing... 

In all the years he had served Garland, his creator, he could not remember him ever uttering the words, or anything even remotely similar. And Garland had physically hurt him a great deal more than the pain his joining with Kefka had caused. And the mental, well... Garland was forever telling Kuja how useless he was, despite his apparent reliance upon the young man. Kefka at the viewed him as *something* worthwhile... His brain shifted through his memories, his thoughts, only dimly registering the milk white hands scrubbing his backside with the sponge. Kuja still needed to get back to Gaia. He simply couldn’t stay on this world, it was too dead for him, and he had to do his job and prove Garland wrong. But in the meantime... perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad to serve a new master. If Kefka treated him better than Garland, Kuja would gladly be an angel of death for the mad god in the tower.


	9. Chapter 9

By the time the shower was done, the pain in Kuja’s bottom was completely gone. Kefka had cast Cure on him a second time, and the strange magic that had worked its way up through him had left him feeling disturbingly refreshed. It was the same feeling he got after downing an ether. Kuja still felt a little drowsy, though he wasn’t sure why that was the case.

“Uwee, you know, little Esper, I really should see what magic you do already know.” Kefka was drying him off with a massive fluffy red towel.

“Mmhmm...”

“But that can wait until after lunch. I’m hungry.” He giggled. “I will have to check around first and make sure no one needs dealing with, but then we can eat and see what you’re capable of.”

Kuja nodded slowly.

“What should I wear today. The red, or the purple? Or maybe the green?” Kefka led the way to another room adjacent to the bathroom. This was apparently his dressing room, as there was a small dressing table with a mirror on one side. The rest of the room was dominated by a rainbow colored collection of shirts, vests, pants, and other random bits of clothing. Kefka stopped in front of the mess of clothes and looked at Kuja. “What do you think?”

Kuja ran his eyes over everything. “The purple is pretty.”

Kefka giggled. “Yes, it is, isn’t it?” He minced over to the racks and set about dressing himself. Kuja sat at the dressing table, hands in his lap and tail coiled around his right leg. He watched the whole procedure, observing as Kefka carefully selected each bit of clothing with total disregard to whether or not it coordinated with the rest of what he was wearing. When he was finished, he came over to the dressing table.

“Get, up, my little Esper, I have to put my face on.”

Kuja blinked, looking at Kefka’s pale face. It was quite angular, but in a strange, well-bred sort of way. He got to his feet, stepping aside as Kefka deposited himself on the bench with a giggle. He opened a drawer, fishing out a few well-used caskets of makeup.

“You make it look so simple,” Kuja said. Kefka was effortlessly drawing on his usual assemblage of red lines.

“Uwee hee, I suppose it is after awhile.” He picked up a tube of blood red lipstick and carefully applied it. “There, all done.” Kefka tilted his head and looked up at Kuja. “Would you like to be pretty too, little Esper?”

He blushed. “I thought I already was pretty.”

“Oh, you are!” Kefka laughed loudly. “But a little makeup never hurt.”

“...okay.”

Kefka put his own makeup away, and fished around in the other drawer. Eventually he pulled out another makeup case. It was dusty, and the cover creaked when he opened it.

“This color should do...” Kefka looked up critically at him. “You don’t need too much, just a bit to accent those pretty eyes and that sweet little mouth...”

Kuja stood carefully still as Kefka traced a line of makeup over each eye, and then applied a bit of lipstick to his mouth.

“There, now you can look!” Kefka giggled. He sounded quite pleased with himself.

Kuja looked in the mirror. Kefka had drawn a line of coral pink along each eyelid, hooking it back at the end of each eye. A more muted version of the color had been applied to his lips. Normally Kuja wouldn’t have even considered putting on makeup. That was a girl thing, after all, and he’d never had much of an interest in girl things. But as he stared dumbly at his reflection in the mirror, he realized that the color offered just enough contrast to make his blue eyes really stand out.

“I like it.”

Kefka let out a gleeful noise. “Excellent! I’ll have to teach you how to apply it yourself sometime!” Kefka dusted off the case with his fingers and transferred it to the drawer where he kept his own bloody war paint.

“Thank you, Kefka.”

The older man smiled. “Oh, but this is my own vanity making me do this! You’re mine, and so you must look your best!” He stood, going back to the clothes. After pushing through piles of fabric for several minutes, he returned with a length of dark blue fabric. “Here, you can wear this!”

Kuja took it, unrolling the bundle. It was a dressing robe, done in dark blue with silver filigree embroidered on the sleeves.

“It’s very pretty,” Kuja said. “Are you sure?”

“It’s too long on me, really,” Kefka said. Kuja shrugged and pulled the garment on. The fabric was smooth and felt like silk.

“It doesn’t really match with the manacle, though,” he said, eyes briefly straying to the red and silver that still encircled his wrist. Kefka smirked at him.

“Close enough, believe me.”

Kuja nodded. “Thank you.”

Kefka rose up on the toes of his boots, taking Kuja’s chin in hand as he kissed him. The contact was not made of sweetness--it was more possessive than anything else. As Kefka’s hand pulled away, Kuja felt like he had been marked. Kefka turned on his heel and clicked off toward the stairwell.

“Come along, little Esper. I’m getting quite hungry and should eat something before I feel compelled to give you a taste.”

 

Lunch was simple but good: sandwiches made from roast chocobo and fresh salads. Kuja wondered where such nice greenery still grew on this dead world. When Kuja had asked about the salads, Kefka had merely smiled and shrugged.

“There are places, if you know where to look,” he had said. That had been the end of that conversation, as Kefka had wandered off on a tangent about chocobos and the best seasoning for them. Kuja was still somewhat new to the idea of actually eating chocobos, as he’d always been under the impression that the big birds were just for riding. But they tasted rather good, and so he had opted not to argue about it.

After the dishes were gone, Kefka led the way up to the observatory. He paced the perimeter of the room slowly, eyes unfocused as he looked out over the clouds below.

Kuja stood like the statue of some strange half dressed guard. He kept his arms crossed behind his back, turning slowly to watch the other man’s progress around the room.

“Anything interesting?”

The blonde had stopped in front of one of the southern windows. A little scowl appeared on his face, and his long nails drummed the window ledge.

“Albrook!”

“You hate Albrook, right?”

Kefka turned. “That’s right!” He pointed at the window. “I never did get around to blowing them up again...”

“Do you need any help?” He knew the god-man didn’t, but couldn’t help but ask. Kefka laughed.

“No, not really!” He twirled on the heel of his boot, then skipped over to the light. Energy crackled at his fingertips again as he reached for the glowing orb. “Albrook, oh, Albrook, I really fucking hate you...”

“Have you ever considered destroying Albrook in a way that didn’t involve the Light?” Kuja asked, watching. Kefka paused, looking over at him.

“Like what?”

He shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know. You’ve got all that power, why not be creative?”

Kefka’s fingertips crackled as he scratched his chin. “This is true, although using the Light of Judgment really is the most fun of my options...”

“You could find some giant monster to come and smash the town. Giant monsters are fun.”

He giggled. “They are sometimes.”

“Goodness knows you’re not above using them,” Kuja said. “You sicced a Behemoth on me, after all.”

Kefka grinned, looking sideways at Kuja. “I’ve got much bigger critters running around in my bestiary.”

“I bet you do.”

“Uwee, and there’s this particularly big snake...”

Kuja blushed. “I think I’ve already met the snake.”

If Kuja had not been expecting the cackle that came from his captor he would have been more bothered by it. As it was, Kefka laughed manaically for several minutes, before trailing off and turning his attention back to Albrook.

“You know, Kefka-”

“Master Kefka,” the blonde said. Kuja blinked.

“What?”

“Call me Master,” Kefka said. There was a bit of challenge to his gaze as he looked over his shoulder at Kuja. The Genome pursed his lips.

“So I truly have just traded one collar for another,” he said softly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Kefka turned more fully, facing him now. Kuja looked down at his hands. He touched the manacle with the fingers of his left hand, a crease appearing between his brows as he frowned thoughtfully.

“Back where I came from,” Kuja said. “I had a master there too, in a manner of speaking.”

“Did you?” The heels on Kefka’s boots clicked as he made his way to Kuja’s side. “Tell me more, little Esper.”

“I was... created,” Kuja said. “I told you before, I’m a Genome. I was made to be what I am. A murderous little sorcerer. But...” He shook his head, turns his hands palms up and staring at the lines there. “I’m a failure. He told me so.”

“Who did?”

“My creator. My master.. Garland.”

Kefka’s point nose wrinkled. “What a horrible name.”

Kuja smiled briefly, then sighed. “I was a failure, and so he created a replacement for me.”

“How were you a failure?”

“I was made to be Garland’s... Master Garland’s angel of death. I have a job to do. But I haven’t gotten anywhere with it yet. I’m a horrible failure.”

“Uwee, if you’re a horrible failure, then you’re at least good at something.”

He gave the blonde man a confused stare, then shook his head. “Master Garland is still mad at me because I destroyed my replacement. And now he won’t teach me the magic I need to know to do my job!” He touched his chest lightly. “He says I was created with the ability to cast almost any sort of magic. But what good is ability if I’m not given the knowledge I need to use it?”

Kefka looked up at him, aquamarine eyes gleaming in the morning sunlight.

“What?”

“That’s either the truth or a very fanciful story,” Kefka said. “To be honest, I’m not sure which it is.”

“It is the truth!” Kuja shouted. “I’m not from this world!”

Kefka considered this, and shrugged. “Either way, Albrook is waiting.” He turned and hopped back off to the windows. “Fucking Albrook...”

“Master Kefka,” Kuja said, following him. He tried to keep the plea from his voice, since he was already fully aware that the tone didn’t work very well with Kefka. “Why don’t you believe me?”

The blonde man turned away from the window for just a moment, staring at him. Then he tapped his head. “You know, these days I just don’t feel that right in the head. I’m not sure what it is. But, for all I know, you’re just a figment of my imagination. A beautiful, curvy, tight-assed figment of my imagination, but a figment none the less.”

“I’m no figment!”

Kefka waved a hand, turning his pale face back to the glass. “That being said, there are many fanciful stories out there in the world. Who knows what a poor little Esper, lost to the rest of his kind, might be exposed to when around those stupid humans?”

“You’re just a human too, you know.”

“I was once, but I no longer am,” Kefka shot back. “I’m a god now! I have transcended the likes of those stupid bugs and become something completely different.”

“You’re mad.”

“Perhaps.” He smiled. “Perhaps not.” He leaned on the windowsill. “Either way, the world only exists because I let it continue to exist. If something were to happen where I was going to be destroyed, then I would take the whole world out with me. It’s only fair.”

“You can’t destroy a whole world. No one has that kind of power.”

Kefka smirked. “You don’t think I have that kind of power?”

“No. Why would someone with that kind of power lock himself away in a tower like this? What’ve you to be afraid of if you’re so powerful?”

The blond stuck out his tongue. “Nothing at all! I just don’t want to mix with those stupid bugs.”

“I can understand that. I mean, they were going to kill me because they thought that you’d come after them to get me.”

“Is that why you had me blow up Tzen again?” At Kuja’s nod he chuckled. “I see, I see.”

Kuja spoke softly. “Master Kefka, I will have to find a way to make you believe my story.”

“Uwee, I look forward to it. In the mean time...” He trailed off and gestured at the windows. “What magic do you know?”

“Just some basic things,” Kuja admitted. “Fire, Thunder, Blizzard, Cure, Break... Nothing really fancy.”

“Ah, so it *was* you who Broke those people in Tzen.”

“Yes, it was me. I had to do it to escape from where they were holding me.” He looked at his manacled wrist. “Though, I admit that I had to steal a few ethers to do that. There’s something about this world that is draining the magic out of me. It’s like this world is...”

“Dead.”

“Yes, dead.”

“I killed it,” Kefka said, looking quite proud of himself as he spoke the words. “You see, one person *can* destroy a whole world. I changed the face of this world entirely. Turned mountains to dust and rivers to valleys... I ripped the face of the world apart and used the remains to create what you see today.”

“Why didn’t you destroy everything entirely?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Kefka said, snorting a laugh. “Besides, there’s still plenty of residual magic energy left from this world that needs to be worked out... old magic, old relics... powerful stuff. Uwee!” He pointed at Kuja’s right wrist. “Like that manacle! That was a very good find, now that I think about it.”

“But eventually you’ll just... destroy what’s left and move on?”

“That’s the idea,” Kefka said. “I haven’t quite figured out how I’ll manage it yet, since I haven’t found the right magic yet for jumping between worlds. So I’m not in a big rush to go destroying my nice little space in the middle of nothing just yet.”

Kuja said nothing.

“But, I suppose that the reason you feel like your magic is being drained is because the goddesses are out of balance. Uwee... I had to do that to get their power, after all.” He shrugged. “In time they will draw all the remaining magic energy from this world. And then I will take it from them!”

“Why not just take it yourself and cut out the middle man?”

“I have better things to be doing.” At the last word Kefka’s gaze darted over to Kuja and flicked down his front. “Smiting people and such.”

“Ah, well. I suppose that’s understandable.”

“Mhmm!” Kuja watched as the older man stretched. He hadn’t really paid much attention before--he’d been too busy having a mild panic attack at the time--but now he noticed just how small Kefka really was. He was lucky if he was five and a half feet tall, and tended to compensate for it by wearing those clicky high heeled boots. Underneath his layers of clothing he was very slender, owning to the stereotypical way that mages seemed to physically waste away the more powerful they became.

Kefka just... seemed larger than he was. Maybe it was the garish clothing, or the fact that he was constantly moving when he was awake. Even his long blond ponytail, sprouting from a spot high on the back of his head, was forever restlessly twitching behind him. Or perhaps it was the magic in him. It surrounded him with an invisible fog, and when Kefka came too close to Kuja the bare parts of his skin tingled.

Kefka was by his side now, an excited smile warping his face. He took Kuja’s hand and gave it a tug, then released it.

“Come, we should go upstairs!”

“What’s upstairs?”

His Master giggled, already hopping over to the observatory’s exit. “You’ll see!”


	10. Chapter 10

When Kefka had said ‘upstairs’, Kuja had not realized that he actually meant upstairs and outside. Kefka had produced a thick black wool coat with a fluffy red collar as they went up the stairwell. He had pulled it on and then opened a door at the very peak of the stairs. A blast of frigid air had struck Kuja, who was still only wearing the robe Kefka had given him earlier. The older man had ended up having to physically drag Kuja outside.

“Kefka, it’s freezing out here!” Kuja complained, arms wrapped tightly around himself. Kefka giggled, white cheeks flushed pink with the cold. There was a steady wind outside, and it made Kefka’s ponytail whip like a long yellow banner behind him. The feather stabbed into his hair seemed like it was trying to take flight.

“I know it is! Uwee hee hee!” Kefka hopped along, and Kuja crept after him.

They were at the very top of Kefka’s tower, Kuja realized. They were also very, very high up. When Kuja tilted his head back to look up, he found that the roof of the sky seemed very close. Its color was a thick dark blue. Looking up made him feel dizzy, so he lowered his gaze to his feet. They were still bare, and the stones of the tower’s roof were like black ice against his skin. The wind gusted again, pulling at the edges of Kuja’s robe. He felt like he was going to be blown off of the tower and disappear into the oblivion of the sky.

Kefka returned to his side and took his hand. He was wearing gloves now--when had he put them on? Maybe they had been inside the coat. The tips of the gloves were missing, and the last knuckle of each digit was visible gleaming white and red at the end of the dark brown leather. It gave his hands the look of strange cat’s paws. Kuja looked at him more closely. Black was a strange color on Kefka. It made the white of his skin stand out all the more startlingly.

“Stand up straight,” Kefka said, boots clicking along the black stones as he led his shivering companion across the tower. “The whole world can see you from up here, wouldn’t want to slouch!”

“Trying not to freeze to death first, sorry,” Kuja said through gritted teeth. Kefka giggled.

“You’ll get used to it.” 

He led them to the center of the roof, which seemed much wider than the building did at lower levels. There was a big white X painted across the stones.

“What’s the X for?”

“So I know where the center is.” Kefka waved at it. “I was thinking about expanding. Up and up, and all.”

“Why? What’s wrong with the rest of the tower?”

“Nothing!”

“Then why build more?”

“Why not?”

“Uh...” Kuja couldn’t really think of a reason against it.

“Exactly!” 

“But why a tower? And why so very damned tall?”

“So people can see it from very damned far away!” Kefka giggled. “That and it’s all phallic looking, you know.”

“People might think you’re trying to compensate for something.”

Kefka smirked. “Well, you know that it’s not compensation, now don’t you?” He burst out laughing at Kuja’s blush. The younger man wondered how far the wind carried the sound of Kefka’s laugh.

“You’re not very modest, are you?”

Kefka cackled again. “I don’t have to be, I’m a god!” He pointed a long nail at Kuja. “And you shouldn’t be modest either, my little Esper!”

“I shouldn’t?” Kuja tilted his head. “I’m clearly not as great or powerful as you are, so I would think that would... make me worthy of some amount of modesty.”

“Nonsense!” Kefka came over to him, taking Kuja’s face in his hands. His fingertips were warm. “Don’t you see? You are the servant of a god! And you are beautiful, and you...” The pads of his thumbs rubbed on each side of Kuja’s mouth, and the Genome shivered. “...there is a power in you. I can feel it. I just have to teach you how to tap that power.”

He rose up on his booted toes and pressed a kiss to Kuja’s lips. His lips were warm too.

Kuja let out a shaky breath. “Do you really think you could help me with that?”

Kefka’s eyes lit up. “Of course!”

“...would you?”

“Yes, I will.” Kefka kissed him again. The motion was brief, chaste, and possessive. Who else in this world would want to touch him now? “My little Esper, my little Kuja... You will be the best thing to come from this tower, I know it!” He paused, and giggled. “Aside from me, of course.”

“Can’t beat a god,” Kuja whispered, blushing.

“Uwee hee hee! That’s right!” Kefka let go of him and turned. He hopped to one side of the tower roof. Kuja was reluctant to follow. He still harbored a lingering fear of heights, and this tower was certainly no safe height to be falling off of. “Now, let’s see...”

Kuja crept across the stones. He had to turn into the wind to do so, and it stung his face. Kuja lifted a hand to shield his eyes from the gale, and was alarmed to notice that his fingertips were tinged with purple.

“Kef--Master Kefka, how much longer are we going to be out here? I’m freezing!”

“Not much longer.” Kefka giggled. Kuja reached the side where the mad god stood. Kuja made a point of not looking directly down. Instead he cast his vision far out to the horizon, where the layer of clouds shimmered thinly.

“So what are you doing up here, Master?”

Kefka pointed to a spot much closer than the line of the horizon. “Albrook.” He looked at Kuja and smiled. The look was surprisingly calm, gentle. “You wanted me to be creative, didn’t you?”

“I wouldn’t mind you being creative in a place that’s about thirty degrees warmer, to be honest.”

He winked. “Ah, but this way it’s much more dramatic.”

“And cold.”

“Oh, stop whining about the cold! We can warm you up when I’m done with Albrook!” He narrowed his eyes at Kuja. “Unless you don’t *want* me to destroy Albrook.”

“Oh, I want you to destroy Albrook, don’t worry about that.” Kuja offered an appeasing smile. “Please, Master. Show me what you can do.”

Something sparked in Kefka’s eyes, and a wry smile crept back to his lips.

“If you’re worried about falling, don’t be. There’s a field that keeps things on the roof if they’re meant to stay there.”

“I’m not afraid of heights,” Kuja said.

“Perhaps not, but it doesn’t hurt to be at least respectful of them. Wouldn’t need your pretty face going splat on the grasslands below.”

“That would be a waste of a pretty face, wouldn’t it?”

“Uwee, exactly right!”

Kuja shivered again and pulled his robe a little tighter. “Then please, smite them quickly.”

Kefka stuck out his tongue. “Can’t rush perfection, you know.”

“You’ve had practice at doing this, you can rush it a little bit.”

“Well, let me see...” He stared off in the direction of Albrook. “Ah, I have it. Take my hand so you can watch.”

Kuja stared at the offered hand, with its long red nails and white fingertips peeking out from its leather covering. He smiled briefly and took Kefka’s hand. He was only dimly aware of Kefka holding out his free hand in the direction of Albrook.

His vision shifted to a new scene. First was a wide view on Albrook. It was peaceful enough. People were milling about, some doing their afternoon chores, other doing utterly nothing at all. They cast long shadows on the ground as they moved through the dusty streets.

Then the ground on the streets began to crack. Buildings shook, and there were screams as things fell to the ground and shattered. The shaking subsided, and the people came out into the streets, looking around and seeing what had happened. Just as things appeared to have returned to normal, the ground bucked underneath their feet. A massive gaping crack appeared in the streets, and buildings on each side of it collapsed and burst into flames. There were shrill screams as people disappeared into the deep gouge in the street. The flames quickly spread through the already dilapidated looking village, and people ran in terror.

The sound of Kefka’s giddy laughter met Kuja’s ears. He blinked, and was back on the roof of the tower. He looked over to Kefka, who was still laughing.

“Oh, that’s right! Fuck you, Albrook!” He hopped around the roof for a few minutes before returning to where Kuja still stood, shivering in the wind. “So, was that good enough for you?”

Kuja blushed. “For me? What, were you trying to impress me?”

“Well, was that something worthy of a god?”

He made a show of considering, hemming and hawing and twirling a lock of silver violet hair around his fingers. “I guess so...”

“You weren’t impressed at all?!” It was hard to tell if this was making Kefka upset or angry.

“Well, you know, it was a very nice earthquake and all...”

Kefka’s lips pulled into what was decidedly a pout. “Earthquake? Is that all?”

“Well...”

The little god huffed, crossing his arms. “I’ll just stick to the Light of Judgment then.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Master Kefka!” Kuja leaned down a bit, offering a smile. “It was a very good start. Maybe you could use more fire next time? Fire’s always good.”

“Well... I suppose more fire wouldn’t hurt next time.” Kefka took one of Kuja’s hands and gasped. “Goodness, little Esper, you’re absolutely frigid!”

“I’d been trying to tell you that...”

Kefka grinned at him. “Lucky for you, I know the perfect way to get you warmed up.”

 

Kefka sent them downstairs to his bedroom. It was dark when they arrived, but Kefka deftly lit the lamps. Kuja stood next to the bed and tried to rub some sense into his limbs. He watched Kefka peel off his gloves and toss them into a dark corner of the room.

“Come here and help me undress,” Kefka said. Kuja came over without arguing. He knew there was no point in arguing. If he struggled it would probably just make things worse. And he had to admit that there was a small part of him--very small--that didn’t really want to struggle. It wasn’t his fault, he was just at the age where such curiosity begins to bloom in men.

Kefka watched him with bright eyes as he undid the buckles on the front of the coat. Kuja helped him shoulder out of it, pausing briefly only to admire the soft warm fabric. Then the coat went into the corner with the gloves. Underneath were the clothes that Kuja had helped him pick out earlier in the day.

“Be careful with all the buttons.”

Kuja nodded, releasing the jeweled clasps on the bright red vest that Kefka was wearing. Then came off the royal blue shirt. Kuja found himself staring at the pink crosshatch of scars on Kefka’s chest, but again opted not to ask about it. He instead dropped to his knees and started to undo the clasps on Kefka’s boots. This made the older man giggle, and he leaned against of the posts of the bed for balance as he lifted each foot and let Kuja remove his boots and socks.

“Are you feeling warmer?” Kefka asked, amusement in his voice. Kuja looked up and smiled shyly.

“A little, yes.” Kuja slowly looked back down. He had been avoiding looking at the prominent bulge in Kefka’s trousers while removing the rest of his clothing, but now it was unavoidable. Kefka was undoing the fastenings on his trousers, and it wasn’t long before his cock was free and standing at attention. Kuja found himself staring it in the eye.

“The pride of my bestiary,” Kefka said with a wink. “You should be proud to think that you cause such a rise in it.”

“I am,” Kuja said softly.

“Then give it a little kiss.”

Kuja glanced up at Kefka, then looked back down at his cock. It was standing erect and pointing right at him, so he leaned forward and gave it a chaste kiss. A faint noise came from Kefka’s throat.

“Don’t be shy!” He giggled, long nails running through Kuja’s hair. After considering his options, Kuja leaned in again. He gave the head a curious lick, and, deciding it wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be, gave it another lick. Kuja reflexively looked up at the faint moan that came from the older man.

“Was that what you wanted?” he asked with a whisper. Kefka swallowed hard, eyes squeezed shut and his head tilted back. He let out a shaky breath and looked down.

“That’s a very good start,” Kefka said softly.

“Should I... should I do more?”

“Do you want to?”

He was blushing, he could feel it burn his cheeks. “I... I don’t know.”

“Well, give it a few more licks.”

Kuja nodded and leaned in again. He licked the head again, then slid his tongue along a bit of the thick shaft it connected to. He licked one side and then the other before returning to the head. Taking Kefka’s breathy groan as approval, Kuja carefully pressed another kiss to the head of his cock. He parted his lips around the head and, being mindful of his teeth, let Kefka’s cock slip into his mouth. It immediately went in deep, and Kuja found himself having to suppress his gag reflex as the head brushed the back of his throat. It was worth the trouble, though--his Master was whispering breathy praise to him as he slid his lips back up the length of his cock.

“Oh, that’s a good little Esper... so good...” His fingers were curled in Kuja’s hair, partially guiding the motion.

As he bobbed back down the length, Kuja ran his tongue along the underside of Kefka’s cock. There was a pulsing vein there, and it felt quite unusual rubbing against his tongue. He continued like this for several rounds before closing his lips around the shaft and applying a bit of suction to what he was doing. Kuja listened curiously to the little moans coming from Kefka, adjusting his technique to see if he could get a louder noise out of him.

Only a few minutes of this had passed before Kefka’s fingers clenched in his hair and pulled his head back.

“Stop!” Kefka gasped. “Stop, stop!”

Kuja blinked as Kefka jerked his hips back, freeing his cock from the Genome’s mouth. He licked his lips, looking up at Kefka.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“No, oh no, no, no, lovely!” There was a pink stain to Kefka’s cheeks, and it was not caused by wind this time. He took another shaky breath and looked down at Kuja. “If you keep doing that I’m going to come in your mouth, and that would be a waste.”

“It would?” Kuja licked his lips again. There was the faint familiar tingle of magic there.

Kefka petted the feathers crowning Kuja’s hair. “You really are a fresh little doll when it come to this, aren’t you?” He helped Kuja to his feet. “No, I don’t want to come yet, that’s all.”

“Oh.”

“You were doing quite well, actually,” Kefka said, grinning widely. “Are you sure you’ve never done that before?”

Kuja blushed to match Kefka’s pink, and nodded. “I’m sure. I just... liked it, I guess?”

“Well, I certainly can’t complain.”

Kuja smiled shyly down at Kefka as the older man started to undo the ties on the robe he was wearing.

“Are you going to do that to me?” he whispered.

“No, I don’t think so.” Kefka winked at him. “I think I have something better in mind.”

“Better?” Kuja echoed.

“I’ll try to make it better, at the least.” Kefka took his hand and led him over to the big bed. “Climb up and get on your hands and knees for me, okay?”

Kuja swallowed when he registered what the request meant. “Yes, Master.” He climbed up onto the dark red covers, tail swishing uneasily behind him. Kefka went to the night stand and rooted around in it. “Master Kefka?”

“Yes?” There was the subtle noise of a cork leaving a stopper, but Kuja didn’t turn to see its source.

“Why are you being nice to me?”

“Hmm?”

“You locked me up when I first got here. Why are you being nice to be now?”

“Ah, well...” Kefka giggled. “You’ve been a good boy this afternoon, I thought you could use the reward.”

“I see.” Kuja drooped his head, shifting on his knees. A smell drifted to his nose from behind him. What was that smell, it was so familiar... “Lavender?” Where had that come from? He started to turn to look, but stopped with a gasp as something cool and wet was rubbed along his ass. It was odd, he thought, he recognized that texture.

“Uwee, I found it in your bag.” Kefka sounded amused, and Kuja couldn’t help but fully turn to look this time. Kefka was holding a medium sized glass bottle in his hand. Kuja recognized it as being a bottle of lavender scented body tonic he’d gotten while on Gaia. The stuff was slick and a bit oily, but it smelled nice and made his skin soft.

“I didn’t say you could take it!” Kuja hissed, forgetting himself. Kefka tapped the bottle on his bottom.

“You’re mine now, aren’t you? And so in turn everything of yours is mine.”

Kuja bit his lip. “That stuff is expensive, I hate for it to be wasted.”

“Uwee, trust me, you’ll be glad for the waste in a few minutes,” Kefka said. Kuja tilted his head, noticing that the man was using his free hand to coat his cock in a layer of the slippery tonic.   
“Now, just relax...”

Relaxing proved easier than Kuja had expected it to be. The scent of the lavender calmed him, and Kefka leaned down to press soft kisses along the curve of his spine. When he reached the base of Kuja’s tail he stopped and righted himself.

“Are you ready, my little Esper?” His slick fingertips were rubbing along the bit of skin between the base of Kuja’s tail and the start of the curve of his ass.

“I... I guess so.”

“Just... try and stay relaxed.” Kefka did not give him time to tense up in preparation. He was swift to position himself and press in. The sensation was still strange to the younger man and Kuja let out a soft moan.

“Oh, it’s going to hurt,” Kuja said softly, fear creeping into his voice.

“Just stay relaxed,” Kefka said, his voice low and sinuous. He pushed in deeper, slowly, until like before he was buried to the hilt. The lavender tonic made the trip easier than it had been in the shower. Kuja was just getting used to the sensation when Kefka pulled back.

“Ohh...” He bit his lip, fingers curling in a light grip on the comforter as Kefka slid in a second time. Empty and full, then back again. It was almost hypnotic, even as Kefka started to speed up his thrusts. “Oh, Master Kefka...”

Kefka leaned over him, hips still working. “Better than last time?” Kuja nodded hurriedly in reply, and Kefka chuckled. “Good! I’m finding this quite enjoyable myself!”

In time Kefka’s thrusts became more insistent, his breath more uneven. Kuja was panting softly, trying to keep his brain from clouding over due to all these strange new sensations. Unlike last time, this felt strangely good! Kefka was quite good at causing pleasure when he put his mind to it.

Kefka thrust in a few more times, rather hard, and then buried himself in Kuja again. The older man groaned loudly, and as his cock hit a surprisingly sensitive spot inside him, Kuja also cried out. He felt a fresh rush of warmth and magic deep inside him and cried out in delight.

“Master!”

Kefka’s hips jerked again, and inside him the head of his cock thrust once more against the wonderful sensitive place. It took only a third thrust to send Kuja over the edge. The muscles in his stomach clenched tightly as his own hips jerked. He felt Kefka’s warm fingers curling around his cock, giving it an encouraging tug.

“Master!!” Kuja nearly screamed the word as he came, spilling out over Kefka’s fingers and onto the covers. Through the daze caused by his orgasm he felt Kefka press a light kiss to his shoulder.

“You are truly favored by the gods,” Kefka gasped, panting loudly.

In that moment Kuja felt that his crazy master might just be right.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

They rested together on the bed for some time, still joined together, until Kefka announced that he was hungry and that it was time for dinner. Kuja was surprised to find that he was only a little bit sore when Kefka finally eased his self-proclaimed godhead out of the Genome’s still tight hole. As before, Kefka was exceedingly cheerful after sex. He let Kuja go alone down to the bathroom to clean up, and when he returned the older man was already half dressed. He let Kuja put his robe back on, and even fished out a pair of slippers from his closet for Kuja to wear. (Kuja admittedly found it odd that Kefka’s feet were even smaller than his own, but wasn’t complaining about having something to keep his feet off the cold floors.)

“It will be winter soon,” Kefka said. They were sitting at the dining table eating a thick, creamy chocobo soup. “Very cold this year, I’d imagine...” He giggled.

“Colder than it already is?” Kuja frowned. “I don’t know if I want to stick around for that.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I’ll keep you nice and warm.” He winked at Kuja.

“You could just give me more clothing to wear, you know.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“I would prefer it to having to resort to sex every time I got cold.”

Kefka slurped a bit of soup from his spoon. “And here I thought you enjoyed it.”

Kuja blushed. “Well...”

“Oh, Master!” Kefka’s already tenored tone squeaked into a falsetto. He pressed his knuckles to his lips and made a big shower of waving the other hand about.

“I did not sound like that!”

“Uwee hee hee!”

Kuja’s blush darkened. He sure as hell hoped he hadn’t sounded like that.

 

After dinner Kefka led Kuja far down the spiraling staircase of the tower. They were descending much lower than Kuja thought he had gone in the tower before. Kuja peered out one of the thin slatted windows as they made their way down the stairs. The clouds were closer now. The lower they got in the building, the darker everything became. Outside the sun was setting.

“Where are we going?” Kuja wondered. He’d asked this a few minutes earlier, when it became apparent they weren’t just taking the long way down to Kefka’s room.

“Uwee, you’ll see,” Kefka said. No different than before. Unease was mixing with the chocobo stew in Kuja’s gut. He wanted very badly to turn and run back up the stairs, up to what now felt like the relative safety of Kefka’s suites. But Kefka was holding tightly to his right hand, so there was no fleeing. Had he done something wrong without knowing? Was he being punished? Kuja had no way of knowing, really.

They passed an alcove in the stairwell wall, where an intricate statue of a chimera held a lamp from one of its tails. Kefka lit the lamp with a thoughtless fire spell and pulled it from its holder.

“Don’t make too much noise,” Kefka said. Kuja didn’t like the sound of that. He liked the weird, screeching echo that made its way to them from below even less. 

“Master Kefka...” 

The blonde shushed him again, his gaze turned raptly in the direction of a heavy wooden doorway that they were approaching. There was something written in unfamiliar gold letters on the door. A heavy bar crossed the width of the door, and it was bolted shut. Kefka touched a nail tip to the bolt, murmuring something that Kuja could not make out, and the bolt slid out of place. Kefka rested his palm against the door and slowly pushed it open.

The other side was black. Pitch black, like the night in Kefka’s room, but unfathomably worse. From the darkness gleamed uncountable numbers of eyes, glowing red and gold and green in the darkness. There were growls and snarls and shrieks of every tone coming from the inky ether that stretched before them.

“Welcome to my bestiary,” Kefka whispered. A chill raced down Kuja’s spine, and it was not one related to his thin clothing. Kefka took ahold of Kuja’s hand again, and the young man gasped.

“Please, Master, I don’t want to go in there!”

The pale face seemed to glow like a star amongst the blackness that surrounded him. “Are you afraid?”

Kuja swallowed. He really didn’t want to admit to being afraid, even though he was.

“You shouldn’t come in here if you’re afraid,” Kefka said slowly. “These monsters can tell if you’re afraid.”

He winced at a particularly horrible shriek from inside the bestiary. “Master, my lord, Kefka... Why... why are we down here?”

“Uwee... I have to come and check on my stocks now and then. See who’s eaten whom.” Kefka turned to look at him, and his expression softened. “Little Esper, you really are afraid, aren’t you?”

“I... I don’t want to be afraid,” Kuja said in a whisper. Kefka squeezed his hand.

“Don’t worry, they won’t do anything since I’m here.” His words were followed by a pair of snarls from within the darkness. “Really.”

“I really would like to believe you, but...” Kuja shook his head.

“Kuja,” Kefka said in a soft voice. “I know there’s a great power in you. I can sense it. But you let your fears and insecurities cover your power like a blanket of snow... The monsters will continue to scare you until you cast off that blanket and let them feel your power.”

“They don’t scare you?”

“Not at all,” Kefka said. He offered a comforting smile, then held up the lamp. “Here, would you like to carry this for me?” He lifted Kuja’s right hand and pressed the young man’s fingers to the handle. The red stone on Kuja’s manacle gleamed in the lamplight.

“..okay.” Kuja closed his fingers around the cold metal of the handle. It made him feel a little better.

“Follow me, and cast aside your fears,” Kefka said. He stepped into the darkness of the bestiary.

Easier said than done, Kuja thought as he followed his Master on trembling legs. The door swung shut behind him, and it startled the young man so badly that he nearly dropped the lamp.

“Calm down, Kuja, haven’t you ever seen monsters before?”

“Only a few, and not really up close,” Kuja admitted. There were no monsters prowling around where he had been born and raised on Terra, just outside the center limits. In his memory there had never been any incidents where the monsters had tried to get into Pandemonium. And on Gaia it was rare to find monsters prowling around the cities, even late at night. Most of the larger cities had guards posted here and there to take care of such matters.

“Well, now’s your chance. I will help you learn... that they should fear you much more than you them.”

Kuja cast him a doubtful look. The lamplight was not as steady as it could have been, and it was casting unpleasant shadows on Kefka’s backside. “In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m not a giant beast covered in feathers or scales or thick hide. And I don’t have long vicious fangs and glowing eyes.”

An amused noise came from the older man. Accompanied by the noises the monsters were making it sounded a great deal more sinister than Kuja hoped he intended it to sound. “Not all monsters are gigantic beasts, and neither are they covered in scales and feathers and whatnot.” He turned a bit, and his pale eyes reflected back the light of the lamp. “Fangs are optional too, you’ll find.” He grinned, and his unusually white teeth gleamed. Kuja swallowed and forced himself to nod.

“Yes, I know, but...” He winced at another horrible shriek that came from off to their left. “The monsters in this place... I do not imagine that you have a flock of deformed bunny rabbits lurking in your tower.”

Kefka considered this for a moment, then smiled again. “Not anymore, no.” He turned away from Kuja and continued off into the darkness, soon out pacing the ring of light thrown out by the lamp. Kuja lingered behind, staring dumbly in the direction that he had went.

“What do you mean, not anymore?!”

“Uwee, just what I said. Now, come along.”

Kuja scurried after him, an uncomfortable spike of fear driving itself into the base of his spine when he realized he could no longer see Kefka in the darkness. His tail twitched.

“Kefka, where are you?” 

There was a long, horrible pause before Kefka spoke. “Right over here.” 

Kuja could not place the other man’s voice, and turned. “Where?” He held the little lamp out at arm’s length, turning in a slow circle. Nothing. “Kefka?”

“What are you doing, little Esper?” His voice echoed around Kuja, sounding very to the way it had back when he had first heard it while in that small stone cell. How long ago had that been now? Just a day or two, or more? He couldn’t really remember. He turned again, panic creeping into his brain.

“Kefka??” Oh god, was that his terrified voice? If he hadn’t been terrified he would have been embarrassed. “Master Kefka, please!”

Something stirred the air behind him, and Kuja froze. His tail bristled.

“Please, this really isn’t funny!”

“Kuja, what are you talking about? I’m right here!” There was a sudden flicker of light just to his left, and Kuja saw a small ball of fire appear in Kefka’s pale outstretched hand. “See? I’m right here. Calm down.”

The young man hurried over to his senior. “That was cruel, Kefka!”

Kefka smiled at him, the dancing flames sending menacing shadows over his face. Kuja swallowed.

“Please, don’t do that again.”

“I told you, you’ve no need to be scared.” Kefka closed his fingers and snuffed out the flames. He turned and started to walk again, and Kuja was careful to keep close behind him this time. Kefka led them far into the darkness.

“What are we doing down here, anyways?”

“I told you, I’m just checking on things. And I don’t want you left behind upstairs.”

Kuja grimaced as a monster nearby in the darkness made a sound like it was coughing up something. “I wish you’d not think so much of me next time.”

Kefka giggled. “We’re almost done here, so don’t worry.”

And then, as Kefka said, they were done. They reached a wooden door on the far wall, and Kefka opened it. Kuja cast a look behind him as the door swung open and the red light of sunset spilled into the black room.

It was empty.

Kuja gasped softly, leaning back into the room. It was utterly and entirely empty, with not a single monster to be seen. 

“But, the monsters...”

“I told you there was nothing to be afraid of,” Kefka said. He smiled.

“But, all the noise, the smells.... What was it?”

Kefka chuckled. “If you were to go back in there and close the door, they’d still be there. But monsters... those monsters, at least... they greatly just exist in the head.” He turned his back to the room. “The real nasties are outside here.”

“Outside?” Kuja blinked, following Kefka’s gaze. They were outside the tower, standing on the ground. The grass was all dry and dead here. Far as the eye could see, everything was dead. The sun was setting, far to the west, and the heavy clouds were overhead staining everything with the same blood red color Kuja recalled seeing at dawn.

“What are we doing out here?” Kuja turned and looked up. The tower seemed to stretch on forever, coming dangerously close to piercing the sky as it disappeared into the cloud cover.

“I wanted to test you,” Kefka said.

“What, test me? You mean back in there?”

“No,” Kefka said, shaking his head as he took the lamp from Kuja and started out over the grass. “I plan on testing you out here.”

Kuja watched his Master’s backside as it moved away from him. Then he hurried after the man, anxiety squeezing his chest. “But you said the real nasties are out here, you know...”

“Of course I did!”

They made their way through the red twilight. Kefka’s tower loomed behind them like a mountain made of stone, glass, and who knew what else. There were rustlings in the dead grass around them. At the horizon Kuja could see something flicker.

“Is that fire?” he wondered aloud.

“Mm-hmm.”

Kuja considered the distance and the direction they were facing. “Albrook?”

“Uwee hee, what’s left of it.” Kefka smirked, lips redder than usual in the twilight. “Maybe this time they’ll learn their lesson!”

He watched the distant flames. Their smoke mingled with the heavy clouds, making the sky to the south darker than it should have been.

“How many times have you destroyed Albrook?”

“Oh, I don’t know...” Kefka tilted his head. “Five... six... maybe ten? I stopped counting.”

“They’re persistent.”

“As... oglops.” He tossed his head, long feather and ponytail twitching behind him. “Stupid peasants.”

“Do you really think they won’t rebuild again?”

Kefka frowned. “They probably will.” He stomped a booted foot. “Fucking Albrook!”

“If you killed everyone in town they might stop,” Kuja offered. Kefka looked up at him, still frowning.

“You’d think so, wouldn’t you? But I tried that already!”

“And they came back?”

“Again and again!”

Kuja considered this. “Maybe they’re zombies.”

The aquamarine eyes lit up. “Uwee, maybe they are!” He giggled. “All the more reason to fucking destroy them!”

Kefka stomped off through the grass, and Kuja could do nothing more than follow him. It wasn’t like he could run away. Kefka could probably find him anywhere he went in this strange dead world, and Kuja didn’t want to think about what kind of punishments the little clown of a god would think up if he did make a break for it.

He was muttering as he went along, and eventually Kuja caught up enough to hear what exactly he was grumbling about.

“Everything comes back,” he said lowly. The arm holding the lamp swung it out in front of him. “Everything! I destroy it, and it comes back.”

“That’s the nature of things...” His own purpose in life wasn’t really much different. Destroy the life of Gaia so that the life of Terra could come back. He heard Kefka snort. 

“Then the nature of things should change.” He continued grumbling. “I kill the people, and then there are just more of them. I destroy their villages and towns, and they rebuild them. I take everything away, and yet they persist. Why?!”

Kuja admittedly did not know the answer to the shrieked question, and so he said nothing. Underneath his slippers the grass was thinning and giving way to uneven ground covered in small rocks that pressed unpleasantly through the soles of his shoes.

“Master Kefka, where are we going?”

“Not much farther now.” Kefka stopped muttering and paused in his progress to look around. The red of twilight was deepening, and behind them the sky was turning black. Kuja thought: this was only the end of the second day he had spent directly in Kefka’s presence. And yet it felt like the time had been much longer, as if time on this world was warped and pulled slow as the planet choked to death in slow motion. Kuja supposed that this was possible.

He was so lost in thought that he bumped into Kefka.

“Oh!” When had he stopped again? Kuja grabbed Kefka’s shoulder for balance, then leaned to see what he was looking at.

There was a hole in the ground, just large enough for a man to crawl into. The ground around the hole was covered in rough stone that was burned black. In the twilight everything seemed tinged with blood. And then a smell came to his nose that nearly made him retch. Something was dead around here, dead and rotting and smelling really really bad. He opened his mouth, but Kefka shushed him and he clamped it shut again. He was glad he had--for the brief moment his mouth had been open his taste buds had been assailed with the thick funk in the air, and his stomach had nearly turned itself inside out.

“Are you ready?” Kefka whispered.

“Ready for wh-” Kuja stopped as a hissing noise came from the hole in the ground. There was a creak and a crunching noise, and the sound of something heavy moving. “No, no I’m not ready, stop doing this to me, Master!”

But it was too late. Out of the ground a long black form was emerging. The last bit of the twilight gleamed on scales that shone like obsidian. Kuja’s grip on Kefka’s shoulder tightened as thirty feet of shimmering black serpent emerged from the ground. At its thickest the snake’s body was as big around as a man, and a row of sharp spines ran the length of its body. The tip of the snake’s tail seemed to be crafted from an enormous flint knife. The snake coiled on itself once it was free from its lair, and an inappropriately large head rose several feet above the ground.

“What the hell is that?” Kuja squeaked as the snake opened its mouth and hissed, flashing two pairs of long black fangs.

“That,” Kefka murmured, “is your test. The Oblivion Serpent.” He shrugged away from Kuja, taking a few steps back.

“My... wh...” Kuja looked from the snake and back behind him. “What?!”

“Oh, by the way, Kuja...” Kefka winked. “It’s weak against ice.”

Kuja looked back to the serpent. Everything suddenly became much darker, and Kuja realized that Kefka was gone. He’d been abandoned out here in the near-dark with a gigantic ugly snake staring down at him.

“Fuck!”

The snake hissed again, with enough force that Kuja could smell the stink of its breath. The beast lunged at him, and it took everything he had to dodge just the initial attack. For several minutes he could do nothing but dodge the attacks, his brain fumbling along the words to the lone Blizzard spell that he knew.

Kuja thought, though he might have been entirely imagining it in his panicked dodging, that he could hear a soft voice whispering to him. It was as if the ground around him was calling out to him. The Oblivion Serpent lunged at him again. Kuja leapt up, and the snake slammed headfirst into the ground he’d been standing on. There was a cracking noise as the serpent’s armored head struck a large rock just beneath the layer of ground litter. The beast was stunned, and since Kuja had no idea just how long it would be disabled he opted to run instead of attacking.

He ran, ran as fast as his legs would carry him. Even as he did he could hear the snake moving sluggishly behind him. There was just a bit of dark red far in the distance, and Kuja knew it was either the setting sun or the fires of Albrook. Either was it was away from the snake, even if it did mean he was running away from the relative safety of Kefka’s tower. He ran, the soles of his slippers barely touching the uneven ground beneath his feet. The snake hissed behind him, and from the clatter of stones Kuja knew he was running out of time and it was starting to recover.

The ground rose, he make his way uphill, still running. The ground abruptly sloped away, and Kuja stumbled, tripping over himself and rolling down a sharp incline on the other side of the hill. He bit back a cry of pain as rocks of various sizes snagged at his skin and left him bleeding at the bottom of the incline. Kuja groaned and forced himself to get up. On the other side of the hill, the snake snarled as it started to move again.

Kuja wiped a bit of gravel off his palms and looked around. There was that soft strange voice again. It was not the hiss of the snake, it was something else.

There were words, faint and plaintive, like a memory... like the words of a ghost. 

He looked around, and realized he was standing at the bottom of what had once been a riverbed. The ground beneath his feet was composed of dried mud. Kuja strained his ears, trying not to listen to the sounds of the snake as it made its way up the hill. He could practically see the monster’s tongue flicking out, tasting the air and ground for him. Kuja pushed the image out of his mind, blanking it as much as he could manage for just a moment. He listened, and the ground spoke to him again. He faintly recognized the words--it was whispering a Water spell.

But the snake was weak again ice, isn’t that what Kefka had said before leaving?

“What good will a water spell do...” Kuja trailed off, looking at the ground again. His attention was pulled away as the Oblivion Serpent reached the crest of the hill that Kuja had just recently tumbled over. “Oh, hell with it.”

He raised his hands and chanted the incantation that the dry ground beneath him was begging for. He blocked out everything to focus on it, blocked out his fear and the image of the snake charging down the steep hillside. The final words of the incantation left his lips. He waited, and nothing seemed to happen. The snake, all black ugly thirty feet of it gleaming in the last bits of sunlight, reached the bottom of the hill, its jaws open wide.

Then the dry ground shook underneath them. A crack formed beneath Kuja’s feet and spread quickly in the direction of the Oblivion Serpent. The snake faltered at the shaking. The crack reached the serpent and burst open. A jet of pressurized water shot from the gap beneath the snake’s belly, rocketing the monster into the air.

Kuja knew what to do now, knew even as he saw the black body of the beast thrown into the sky.

“Blizzard!” He cast the ice spell onto the column of water that was still rising into the darkness. The head of the fountain froze, capturing the Oblivion Serpent in its icy grasp. The water continued to be ejected from the ground, and the massive block of ice rose high into the sky. Kuja craned his neck to watch, even after it went beyond his sight and all he could sense of it was the shaking of the ground and the roar of the water. He imagined that it went so high that the ice might brush the bottom of the clouds.

Then the flow of water from beneath stopped. What water that had been ejected began to return to the earth below, and Kuja again had to run. His knees ached as he reached the higher ground of the hill. He watched, panting, as the dried riverbed was refilled before running off into the darkness.

To Kuja it felt like it took a long time for the block of ice to come crashing back to the ground. When it did the ice shattered like glass. The frozen serpent exploded, its black body fragmenting like the obsidian that had appeared to coat its body. A long shard of the serpent’s armor landed at Kuja’s feet. He stooped and picked it up.

The sun had set, and it was too dark now for him to make anything out. On his wrist the manacle glowed, and before Kuja realized what was happening, he found himself back in the tower.

In the observatory, in fact. Kefka was leaning against the windowsill, a faint smile on his lips.

Kuja stared at him for a long moment, then crossed the room. He held out his hand, and the surface of the black obsidian shard gleamed in the lamplight.

“A gift,” Kuja said. Kefka took it, looking at it thoughtfully.

“Thank you.”

Kuja stared at him. He knew he should be mad at Kefka for abandoning him out there in the darkness with a crazy giant snake. But he couldn’t muster the anger. Perhaps later. The thought of being angry had never struck him during the battle. He’d been too busy trying not to die. Now the adrenaline rush that came with battle was wearing off, and he was tired. His arms and legs were covered in little stinging nicks and scrapes from his fall down the hill, and his joints were starting to ache.

“Did I pass?”

Kefka tore his gaze away from the stone in his hands and looked up at Kuja. He smiled.

“Yes, you did. But we’re going to have to do something about those incantations.” He set the stone on the window ledge and took Kuja’s hand. The young man followed him out of the observatory and down the stairs to the bathroom.

“Incantations?” Kuja echoed dully. Kefka nodded.

“Uwee, yes... they’re slowing you down.”

“I need them to cast the magic, in case you forgot.”

Kefka tilted his head. “You only think you do. I’m going to have to teach you better, so that you can become faster.”

“Faster...”

“Yes. But, for now, we must get you cleaned up.”


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Kuja was not honestly sure which tired him out more: fighting or sex. They seemed to run a close tie. Both left him feeling the perplexing paradoxic co-existence of fatigue and exhilaration. When he mentioned this to Kefka, the older man smiled.

“Trust me, my little Esper, in time you will come to know the difference in those two pleasures.”

Kuja wasn’t sure what pleasure could truly be derived from fighting. The experience of fighting the Oblivion Serpent had left the young man rattled. He still felt no anger toward Kefka, and could not explain why.

“You were quite resourceful,” Kefka said. He led Kuja over to the shower, turning the water on warm. “But your clothes are all torn up, I’m afraid...”

“They were yours, are you upset?”

“No, it’s alright.” Kefka smiled and helped Kuja out of the robe and slippers. “Look at all these little scrapes, uwee hee! Looks like someone could use some healing!”

“Don’t so happy about that.”

“Well, I could just let you get covered in ugly little scars, if you’d prefer that.”

Kuja wrinkled his nose. “Go ahead and heal me.”

“I thought as much. Your skin is too lovely to let it go to waste.”

He stood under the warm water, feeling a bit drowsy as Kefka ran his fingers over the various bloody marks on Kuja’s arms. “Master Kefka?”

“Uwee, yes?” Kefka was using his long nails to pick out tiny bits of broken rock that had embedded themselves in the skin under the manacle Kuja wore.

“Why did you leave me alone out there?”

He paused. “Are you mad?”

“...not really, no. I survived. I would have been angry if I hadn’t survived.”

Kefka giggled. “Would you have haunted me?”

“...maybe.”

The long red nails plucked a shred of quartz from Kuja’s wrist. The Genome winced. “I would have had your magicite to remember you by, at least.”

“Very funny.” Kuja sighed. He tilted his head back, letting the warm water pound against his temple. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“No, I didn’t.” Kefka hummed to himself.

“Are you going to?”

“Well, do you want an honest answer?”

“I think so.”

“Then it’s probably better that I don’t.” Kefka held Kuja’s right hand between his own. “Anyways, if I had stayed there, you would have waited for me to save you. Sometimes force is the only way to get a door open, that’s all.” He patted Kuja’s hand. “And you opened the door, but spent a bit too much time pondering the key before you used it.”

“I can’t help it,” Kuja said. “That’s how I was taught to cast magic.”

“Well, it’s one way, yes. But you have to learn to just... cast it.”

“Without the incantation.”

“Yes. With that.” Kefka let go of his hand and went to the little alcove in the shower wall where shampoos and other shower things were kept. He picked up a bottle. “Come here and let me get you clean.”

Kuja followed him over to the alcove, and stooped a bit so that Kefka could work a palm full of shampoo into his hair.

“But how?”

“How what?”

“How do you cast magic without having to say the incantation first?”

“Well, you just... do.” Kefka kneaded the pads of his fingers into Kuja’s scalp. “It doesn’t work for every spell, but most. You just have to.. learn to use your body as the incantation.”

“I’m not sure I follow.”

“I’ll explain it later.”

“You won’t forget?”

“Of course not!” Kefka swatted Kuja’s rear with a soapy hand. “My word is as good as my performance in bed, uwee hee hee...”

“You’re very sure of yourself in that respect, aren’t you?”

“Sure I’m sure! Why shouldn’t I be?” Kefka paused in his scrubbing and shot Kuja a suspicious look. “If anything in my performance is lacking...” He gave Kuja’s hair a little tug. “Please be sure to tell me.”

Kuja snorted. “Oh, don’t worry, I will.”

Kefka giggled and pushed Kuja’s head back under the water to rinse out the shampoo. Kuja sagged a bit at the pressure, and rested his hand on the wall to support himself.

“Uwee, feeling tired?”

“Don’t sound so excited about that,” Kuja said. Kefka giggled again and squatted next to Kuja. “You’re going to get wet doing that.”

“Oh, I don’t mind.” He took one of Kuja’s feet in hand, running the pad of his thumb over the skin there. “My, look at this scrape. You certainly did take an impressive tumble down that incline.”

Kuja sucked in a breath as the fingers brushed over a raw patch of skin. “It was too dark out, I couldn’t see where I was going.”

“Understandable.”

“Why did you pit me up against a giant snake, anyways?”

“Phallic imagery.”

“Kefka!”

“Uwee hee hee!” There was a tingle on Kuja’s foot, and the scrape began to heal.

“...thank you.”

“I should probably make you heal yourself, you know. But I get the feeling that you’re probably running low on magic right now, so I thought I would be nice for once!”

“For once.”

Kefka smirked up at him. “Aren’t you, though?”

Kuja considered, still leaning against the wall of the shower. “I didn’t realize I had that much magic left in me, to be honest.”

“Uwee, some of that magic in you was probably my doing.”

He shot Kefka a look, hoping that the warm water was excuse enough for the color on his cheeks. “Probably.”

“I’m rather proud of you, though,” Kefka said. His tone had shifted to a level of unusal seriousness.

“You are?”

“Well, yes...” Kefka set down Kuja’s foot and picked up the other, picking at a stuck piece of gravel with his nails. “You really gave me a bit of... of hope, out there.”

“Hope?” He looked down at his Master. “What would you need hope for?”

“Well, I don’t, personally, but... Hope for you. Hope that you will be able to find yourself and become a truly great Esper for me.”

“Master...--ow!” Kuja yelped as Kefka dug out another shard of quartz from his pale skin. His foot jerked, but Kefka kept his grip.

“Be patient, I’m nearly done down here.”

Kuja sighed and settled his weight a bit more against the wall. “Why are you so nice to me? You seem to hate everyone.”

“Oh, I do,” Kefka said. “I hate everyone in this world.”

“But not me?”

The pale eyes looked up at him. “No, not you. After all... you’re not from this world, right?”

Kuja turned his face away. “Not that you believe me.”

“Uwee, well... I have to admit, I’m starting to wonder. Perhaps you bumped your head somewhere, or perhaps you’re really telling the truth...” He grinned. “If you really are from another world, that give me some of that hope I don’t really need. You know?”

“How’s that?”

Kefka set down Kuja’s foot. He brushed his nails lightly over the now pristine skin. “If you truly are from another world, well... Then that means I can in fact find another world to go to once I’m done here. Don’t you see?”

“I think so... Just...”

“Hmm?” Kefka looked up at him again, and Kuja blushed.

“Just stay off of mine, okay?”

Kefka laughed. “Sounds like a deal.”

 

Kuja did not bother asking where he was going to sleep that night. He just wordlessly followed Kefka after his shower. The shorter man peeled out of his layers of clothing while standing in his dressing room, tossing them into a pile regardless of how wet they might have become while he was helping Kuja clean up. Kefka considered the contents of his closet, and then looked back over his shoulder at Kuja. The Genome was still wrapped in a towel, shivering a bit. A smile played on Kefka’s lips, and he turned away from his closet.

“You know, I believe the only thing I want to be clothed in tonight is you, my little Esper.”

Kuja offered a faint nod. “If that is your desire, then I am no one to argue with it.”

“Uwee, that’s right!” Kefka walked briskly across the stone floor. “Here, give me your towel.”

He did so, but was frowning. “It’s cold, Master Kefka.”

“Don’t worry, it’s not far to bed.”

 

The next morning dawned cold and clear outside of Kefka’s tower. Kuja again found himself waking in the darkness, wrapped in his captor’s sleepy embrace. They had fallen asleep after another round of sex, and when Kuja woke Kefka was still inside him. Kuja shifted his weight a bit, and Kefka murmured, snuggling against him. He looked back over his shoulder at the mess of blonde hair and white skin. The man looked almost innocent in his sleep, but Kuja knew better than to be fooled.

Kuja expected to be pulled into another bout of sex after breakfast, but Kefka was quiet while he showered. He let Kuja stay up by himself in the observatory while he bathed, clad in a new robe and pair of slippers. When Kefka returned he was smiling faintly, and the look made Kuja feel uneasy.

“Come with me,” he said, and started for the stairwell. Kuja hesitated. Was he going to be led out into the wilds again, left to fend off another crazy giant monster?

“Master Kefka...”

“Don’t worry, no monsters today,” Kefka said. He led the way down the stairs, stopping after several floors had passed. They had come to a door that was painted dark red. A gold lion was standing rampant on the door.

“Are you sure there’s no monsters?”

“Uwee, maybe a few mice, but nothing worse.” Kefka unlocked the door, and held out the small gold key to Kuja. “Hold onto that.”

“What’s behind the door?”

Kefka rested his hand on the knob. “A present of sorts. I’ve no real use for it, since I’m busy with other matters.”

Kuja’s curiosity was piqued by this comment. What could Kefka have no use for that he would bother keeping around in his tower?

The door opened. Inside it was dark, until Kefka gestured and flames sprung to life in a fireplace and several lamps. He stepped aside and gestured.

“Here you go, my little Esper.”

Kuja stepped into the room and looked around. His brows shot up.

“It’s a library?”

“Of sorts, yes.” Kefka smiled, looking up at Kuja eagerly. “Go ahead, look around.”

It was a large room, taking up most of that floor of the tower. There was an old sagging chair against one wall, but the rest of the room was taken up by books. They filled five massive bookcases and spilled out onto the floor. Piles of books sat like little miniature towers throughout the room.

“Where’d you get all these books?” Kuja wondered.

“I salvaged them,” Kefka said. “Sort of. One of the buildings that was destroyed while I was making this tower was a very large old library. These were some of the more resilient books.” He giggled. “The fire ate the rest of them, I’m afraid!”

“And this is all for me?”

“More or less. I’m not sure if you’ll be able to read them, but you had a book with you when you arrived, so... it couldn’t hurt to try.” Kefka smiled. “Are you up to the task?”  
Kuja looked back over at Kefka. He smiled. “I believe so.”


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

A month passed. It did not take long for the mad god and his little Esper to fall into a regular pattern. More often than not they woke late in the morning, had sex, took a shower, ate lunch, had sex again, and then fell into their afternoon patterns. Kefka spent his afternoons pacing about the observatory and muttering obscenities at Albrook. Kuja usually spent that time down in the library. Upon realizing that he could, strangely enough, read the books presented to him, he first set about organizing the mess. There were all sorts of books included in the mess, and Kuja would quickly forget about the time and his predicament. When Kefka got hungry he would retrieve Kuja and they would eat dinner. The time after that was usually dedicated to Kuja’s magic training. Kefka insisted that, slowly but surely, Kuja’s magic usage was getting better, but the Genome still harbored his doubts.

Sometimes Kuja did not spend his afternoon in the library, and instead joined Kefka in creatively smiting the towns and villages in the countryside below. Kefka was endlessly pleased by the things Kuja thought up. Kefka's favorite of Kuja's ideas for smiting had been the pack of bloodthirsty chocobos that had terrorized the still recovering peasants at Tzen.

Later into the night, after training and dinner, there was sometimes more sex. It depended on how tired they were after training.

Winter set in, and the tower grew colder. Down far below it snowed, and the ugly countryside was covered with a thin layer of white. It filled in all the little craters and tears in the ground, and Kuja was sure that, for a little while at least, the peasants were able to pretend that their world hadn’t been destroyed. The illusion was short lived, of course, because the winter was so bitterly cold down below the cloud layer. Terrible ice monsters were roused from their summertime slumbers, and Kuja had taken a particular interest in watching a gigantic frost dragon spend four days laying siege to the town of Nikeah.

“Thirty-two, thirty-three...”

Kefka looked up from his bowl of soup. Kuja was counting on his fingers, writing down numbers on a little piece of paper that he had brought up from the library. The dining room was dark, the sun set early during the winter on this world too, and so Kuja had a lamp sitting on the table between them.

“What are you counting?”

Kuja glanced up, the feather quill in his right hand pausing. “Hmm?”

“What are you counting?” Kefka repeated, slurping his soup.

“The days that I’ve been here.”

“Oh.” Kefka slurped again. “Thirty-nine.”

Kuja blinked and looked at him again. “You sure?”

“Sure I’m sure.”

“Oh.” Kuja wiggled the quill in his fingers. “Well, I suppose that makes that moot.”

“Why did you want to know?” Kefka turned the bowl in his hands, scooping up a few noodles.

“I was just wondering how long it was until my birthday,” Kuja said. He looked back at the paper.

“Birthday? Espers have those?”

“Sure we do. We’re born too.”

“Oh. Well, I suppose that’s true.” Kefka smiled. “So, when is your birthday?”

“On this world’s calendar, I’m not really sure...” Kuja shrugged. “On Gaia my birthday would have been at the beginning of summer, but I think it’ll be during the winter here.”

“Uwee...Is that why you were counting days?”

Kuja nodded. “That’s right. I was trying to figure out how many more days it was until my birthday. I’ll be 18 this year...” He scratched out a few numbers on the piece of paper.

“So, how long?”

“Two weeks, I think.” He mumbled to himself, then wrote down a few more numbers.

“We’ll have to do something for it, then,” Kefka said. He giggled. “I don’t remember the last time I celebrated someone’s birthday!”

“Not even your own?”

He shook his head slowly. “I don’t really remember when my birthday was.”

That struck Kuja as unusually sad. “Well, maybe you should pick a new birthday.”

Kefka blinked. “A new one? Why would I do that?”

“Well, I know you’re not real big on creation, but...” He thought, looking at the paper beneath his hands. “What about the day you destroyed the world? That might be a nice anniversary for you to celebrate.”

“Uwee... what kind of celebration?”

“I don’t know...” Kuja drew a little happy face on the paper. “Throw a party, drink, get presents... blow stuff up...”

“No sex?”

“Well, if it’s just a party for two, I suppose sex could fit in there somewhere.” Kuja smiled wryly at him. “It’s up to you, Master Kefka.”

“Uwee hee hee! Then maybe we should do that!”

“Do you have any idea how long it is until that anniversary?”

Kefka grew quiet and looked to the dark windows. He tapped a long red-painted nail on his chin. “Let’s see...” His eyes lit up, and he looked back at Kuja. “About two more weeks, actually.”

“That’s odd.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Kefka giggled. “Perhaps it was fated!”

“What, that you’d destroy your world on my birthday?”

He nodded. “Sounds like something the fates would do.”

“I suppose so...”

Kefka leaned across the table. “You know what that means, don’t you?”

“...do I?”

He grinned. “It means you were fated to come to me.”

Kuja laughed at this. “That’s quite the egotistical thing of you to say, Master.”

“I’m sure it is. And I’m sure I have every right to say it.”

“I guess so...”

“You guess so?” Kefka scoffed, pushing his bowl aside. “Come here, little Esper.”

Curious but feeling doggedly obedient, Kuja set down his feather quill. Kefka made a little ‘come here’ gesture with his fingers, and Kuja got up from his seat. The blonde man scooted his chair back, looking hungrily at Kuja as he patted on the dark wood of the table top.

“Sit.”

Kuja hopped up on the table. The wood was cool against his skin. His long legs were bare, and he let the fabric of his dressing gown gather behind him on the table. Kefka licked his lower lip as he rested his hands on Kuja’s knees and pushed them apart some.

“My beautiful little Esper,” Kefka said, voice low and nearly purring. “You truly have been doing well... I believe I will have to find something to gift you with for your birthday.”

Kuja stared down at him. “Do you mean it?”

“Of course!” He gave Kuja’s knees a squeeze. “Is there something in particular that you’d like?”

Kuja considered, idly watching Kefka’s hands. They gave his knees another squeeze, and then in unison started to rub their way up his thighs. “Some real clothing would be nice.”

“Uwee hee... why should I give you clothing when I’m just going to take it off of you again?”

Kuja blushed. “Well, if you were ever to want to show me off, wouldn’t it be better if I were clothed?”

A blonde brow arched. “Why would I want to share you? I’m going to keep you all to myself.”

“I know, Master, but... Ah!” Kuja gasped. Kefka had leaned in and was nipping lightly at the skin of his inner thigh. “Oh, Master Kefka, didn’t you have enough to eat for dinner?”

Kefka giggled at this and nipped higher. “Perhaps I did, perhaps I didn’t.” His tongue snaked out and licked its way up Kuja’s thigh. “Perhaps I just need a little dessert.”

Kuja worked at smothering a giggle as the blue feather bound in Kefka’s ponytail brushed against his knees.

“M-Master!” He reached down, trying to brush the feather away. “You know I hate doing it on the table! That’s dirty!”

“Then you’ll just have to scrub off the table later,” Kefka said. He pressed a kiss to the head of Kuja’s cock and then pushed him onto his back on the table. “I happen to like this height.” Kefka slid his hands back to Kuja’s knees and pulled his legs apart. 

“It’s not my fault you’re short, Master Kefka.”

Kuja yelped when he got a pinch on the thigh for his comment. “Who are you calling short, little Esper?”

“My apologies,” Kuja said in a gasp. Kefka had pulled his bottom to the edge of the table and he was trying to ignore the somewhat painful pressure the position was putting on his tail. It hurt, but if this was how his Master wanted it, he wasn’t about to argue.

Kefka got up from his seat and went over to the sidebar. Kuja tilted his head a bit, listening as Kefka rustled around in one of the drawers. He couldn’t help but roll his eyes when Kefka returned to the table.

“Dare I even ask why you keep half-burned out candles?”

Kefka smirked down at him, rolling the length of old wax between his hands. “You never know when such things might come in handy, my dear.”

“Oh, indeed.” He watched as Kefka set down a little jar of oil--his lavender tonic had run out weeks ago--and proceeded to coat the candle stub in the contents of the jar. Kuja knew what was coming. His Master had gotten quite fond of finding different ways to prep his play toy. Once, and just once, Kuja had found out how painful it was to have one of those long red nails inside of him. He’d sassed Kefka during a magic training session, and his ass had paid the price for that.

Kuja’s breath hitched for a moment as the candle pushed into him. It was solid in him, cool and smooth except for a few ribbons of spent wax that had traced their way down the candle’s sides. Kefka worked it in and out of him, pushing it deeper until most of the candle was inside him.

“Hold that for me,” Kefka said. Kuja reached down between his legs, fingertips pressing against the heel of the taper of wax. “How’s it feel?”

“Kind of cold,” Kuja admitted. Kefka laughed.

“Well, you’re lucky I don’t use you as a candelabra!” He gave Kuja’s thigh a smack, then stepped away from the table. Kuja sat up a bit, propping himself on his free hand. He watched as Kefka worked his way out of his clothing. Most of what he was wearing today was dark violet in color, except for the horrible bright green vest he had on, and red cloak he had draped over his shoulders. The tower had proven itself to be quite drafty as the winter had crept in. As it was, Kefka had only removed his cloak and was not taking off the vest or shirt he had over his torso.

“Quite lucky, Master,” Kuja said softly. The stub of wax inside of him was warming up with his body heat and was beginning to lose its unpleasant coolness. Kuja tilted his head, watching Kefka strip out of his trousers. A smile played on his lips as Kefka’s erection sprang free into the chill air of the tower. “Oh, Master Kefka...”

“Hmm?” Kefka looked at him again, smiling playfully as he poured some of the contents of the oil bottle into his palm. His body heat warmed the oil, and the slight smell of some sort of berry wafted to Kuja’s nose. Kuja licked his lips, lowering himself back onto the cool surface of the table top.

“Master, you should really be careful, it’s cold in here.” He looked up at the mad god, watching his face rather than his cock. “You’d better find some place nice and warm to keep your godhead.”

Kefka smirked down at him. “Why, that’s very kind of you to be so concerned, my little Esper.” He swatted Kuja’s fingers away from the candle. “Are you sure there’s nothing in it for you?”

“Only the pleasure of knowing that I’m helping you feel good.”

“Uwee...” Kefka tugged at the candle, pulling it most of the way out before working it in again. “You really can be a ham some times, Kuja.” The younger man winked, and Kefka burst out into delighted laughter. “Uwee hee hee! Now that you mention it, there is a bit of a draft in here...”

“These stone towers are a bit lacking in insulation...”

“That they are.” Kefka pulled the candle out and tossed it aside. Kuja heard it clatter somewhere on the floor out of sight. “Next time I’m going to have to be more mindful of how I build my towers.” He moved forward, hands sliding down to the curve of Kuja’s ass.

“Master Kefka?”

“Hmm?”

“Will I be there?” Kuja looked up at him. Kuja cocked his head.

“I’d hope so,” he said. “Taking over a new world wouldn’t be the same without you.”

Kuja smiled. “Thank you, Master.”

“My pleasure.” He pulled Kuja’s hips forward a bit, settling the head of his cock at Kuja’s hole. “Remember, little Esper, it’s always my pleasure.”

Kuja’s tail twitched, and he nodded faintly. “Please, use me to your pleasure, then, Master Kefka.”

“You really are such a sweet creature...” He pushed his hips forward, sliding into Kuja with practiced ease. “Mmm... sweet and tight and nice and warm...”

“Ah, Master...” Kuja took a few steadying breaths. “Your godhead feels particularly good today...”

Kefka held the wide curves of Kuja’s hips in his fingers, pulling him onto him slowly as he pushed in. “Glad you think so.”

“Oh, I do, I do...” Kuja let out a soft moan as Kefka’s hips met the curve of his ass. “Master!”

“Mm, that’s a good little Esper!” Kefka’s giggle was a bit more breathy and shrill than usual. He started to move, sliding in and out of Kuja slowly. “So nice and.... mm... warm....”

“Master...”

“Shh!” Kefka leaned down, kissing him roughly. He thrust in hard, and Kuja moaned into his mouth. The younger man’s brain clicked back and forth between little bursts of pleasure and pain. Kefka’s rough thrusts were something hard to get used to, even after a month.

“Oh, god.... god!”

“That’s right!” Kefka nipped at his lower lip. Kuja groaned. He could feel the now familiar swelling as Kefka pushed in deep.

“Aahh....ahhh..”

“Uwee, time for a ride!” Kefka gripped Kuja’s hips tightly as he lifted the younger man up from the table. He sat back in his chair. “Turn around, my sweet.”

Kuja’s knees were weak, but he managed to turn around. He leaned against the table, holding its edge in a white knuckled grip as Kefka pulled him back into his lap.

“Ahh!” Kuja let out a gasp as Kefka’s godhead popped back into him, followed by the rest of his cock. “Master!”

“Now, ride me, little Esper,” Kefka said, a commanding tone in his breathy voice. Kuja nodded, his grip on the table not lessening any as he began to rise up and lower himself on Kefka’s lap. Every few cycles Kefka’s hips would twitch up, eliciting a gasp from his rider.

“Master Kefka....” Kuja’s head drooped forward as he focused on his movements. His Master was much bigger than the candle had been, and Kuja’s thighs trembled each time he lowered himself back onto the thick shaft. Guided by the noises Kefka was making, he started to move faster, being careful to keep the head inside of him.   
“Ohh...”

Kuja’s tail twitched, and Kefka grabbed at it. He stroked the base of it in time with their movements.

“That’s a good Esper,” Kefka said, groaning. He stood, knocking Kuja off balance again and splaying him over the table again. Kefka started thrusting into his young companion, pushing into him in deep strokes.

“Ahhn!” Kuja’s hips jerked as the new assault, tail twitching in Kefka’s hand. His cock was pressed between the tabletop and his stomach, and it rubbed maddeningly with each of Kefka’s thrust. “God!”

That seemed to be all that Kefka needed. He thrust in hard a final time, burying himself in Kuja. Just as the young man was feeling the warmth filling him, Kefka squeezed the base of his tail, jabbing the pad of his thumb against a particularly sensitive spot.

“Ahh!” Kuja yelped, hips twitching and grinding the orgasm out of him. He came hard, the warmth spreading out and pooling against his belly. Behind him, Kefka groaned loudly, and Kuja felt a second rush of warmth inside him.

He wondered how Kefka got so heavy, as they rested on the table, panting. Eventually Kuja caught enough of his breath and swatted at Kefka with the end of his tail.  
“Master, got off of me, you’re crushing my ribs!”

“I don’t want to,” Kefka mumbled into Kuja’s hair. He had settled his slim weight along the curve of Kuja’s now-aching backside.

“Master, please...”

“Oh, quit whining, you’ll be fine!” He let out a wispy giggle, his breath tickling at Kuja’s spine.

Kuja lowered his voice, tone as playful as he could manage. “Master Kefka, you’re so mean to me... sometimes I don’t think you like me at all.”

“Nonsense!” Kefka pushed himself up onto his elbows, and Kuja was able to breath a bit easier. “I like you a great deal, you know that!” He shifted his hips forward, and Kuja let out a little gasp. “I fuck you, don’t I?”

“Yes, but...” Kuja’s tail twitched as Kefka moved again. “You’d probably still do that even if you didn’t like me.”

“Perhaps.” Kefka rolled his hips back, then snapped them forward, pushing back into Kuja. “But since I like you it’s more enjoyable.”

“That’s....mm... that’s rather nice of you, Master.”

“Uwee, I know, isn’t it?” He giggled, slowly sliding in and out of Kuja again. “Maybe I should have a couch or something put up in the observatory. Fucking you against the windows isn’t really as much fun as it should be.”

“Ahh... ahh....”

“Don’t you agree?” He gave the base of Kuja’s tail another squeeze.

“Aah.... whatever you say, Master Kefka.”

“Uwee hee... maybe raised up a bit so I can fuck you and still keep an eye on things.”

“Sounds....nng... responsible to me...” Kuja’s head rolled to the side and he let out a moan. Kefka paused in mid-thrust, leaning over him.

“Am I distracting you?”

Kuja moaned again. “Just a bit.”

“Oh, how rude of me!” Kefka slapped at Kuja’s ass, and the younger man yelped. The table squeaked in protest underneath them as Kefka began to pound into him.

“Oh, fuck!”

Kefka groaned, leaning down and biting at Kuja’s shoulder as he came in him again. Kuja’s back arched, tail twitching as he followed suit.

Panting, Kefka sat back into the chair. He pulled Kuja back with him, settling the Genome in his lap. He stroked Kuja’s hair while they caught their breath.

“Look at that,” he said when he’d finally calmed enough to speak. “Do you see that mess you’ve left on the table?”

Kuja was leaning on the tabletop and looked down at the puddle of come smeared out along the dark wood.

“Yes, Master,” he said softly.

“I think you should clean it up, “ Kefka said. Kuja glanced back over his shoulder at the older man, then nodded and leaned down. Kefka watched intently as Kuja cleaned up. “That’s a good boy. I don’t have a maid around here, after all...”

“My apologies,” Kuja whispered, licking up the last of his mess. “I’d hate to be responsible for dirtying thing up...”

Kefka stared down at him for a moment, and then burst out laughing. A fresh blush crept onto Kuja’s cheeks, and then he laughed softly.

“Mater Kefka, you really are crazy.”

“Uwee, I know.” He patted Kuja’s hip. “That’s probably one of my better selling points!”


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Winter dragged on, and the cover of snow in the empty fields below grew thicker. Some might have considered it beautiful. Some might have called it a visual release from the ugliness of the dead world. But, high up in the tower, Kuja saw it for what it was.

Death.

“Winter is the death part of the cycle,” Kefka explained. He was pacing the circumference of the observatory. “Next comes spring. I hate the spring.”

“Because it’s the time of creation?”

Kefka nodded. “That’s right!” He stopped, facing one of the cold windows. The winter sky was clear and a sharp blue. Kuja thought idly while watching Kefka. He’d seen bowls painted that same shade of blue before somewhere on Gaia. It seemed a lifetime ago that he had been there. His eyes moved from the blue back to the pale form of his Master. Sunlight was streaming in, cold like everything else, and was marking Kefka’s profile in sharp white lines. The light gleamed on the gold of his earrings and made his hair shine.

Kuja realized, after watching the blood red curves of Kefka’s lips move, that he was still talking. He blinked.

“Don’t you agree?”

Kuja blinked again. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t listening.”

“Uwee, I didn’t think you were.” Kefka smirked, wagging a finger at him. “I was saying that your birthday is tomorrow.”

“Oh, that’s right.” He smiled. “Did you get me a present?”

“Maaaaybe.” Kefka giggled, twirling in place before continuing his circuit of the observatory. “It’s a secret, though.” He tapped the tips of his nails together.

“Have you made plans already?”

Kefka nodded. “Oh, yes, indeed...” His face lit up. “Having a birthday in the winter is nice, don’t you think?”

“I suppose so.” Kuja thought of his past birthdays. They had been marked by quiet while on Terra, but on Gaia it had been nearly summer and everything had been so alive and green that he couldn’t help but enjoy himself on that somewhat special day. Winter had always been somewhat depressing to the young Genome.

“If I had it my way...” Kefka’s voice trailed off as he passed Kuja, looping back around past the southern windows. “Well, I do have it my way, but, as it were...” He stopped, tapping his booted foot on the stone. “I’d make it winter forever.”

“Forever the season of death?”

“Mm-hmm!”

“I’m not sure how that would be enjoyable,” Kuja said. Kefka turned slowly, staring at him.

“Why not?”

“Well, if everything was always dead, it would lose its charm after awhile, would it?”

“I’m not sure I follow.”

“I mean...” Kuja gestured at the windows. “If spring never came, there would never been new life. If summer never scorched the grounds then the vitality of spring would last forever. People wouldn’t think wistfully of cooler months...”

“Are you saying that people secretly long for death?” Kefka peered at him, clearly intrigued.

“Well, not quite that exactly, but... sort of. I mean...” Kuja laughed. “It’s complicated, isn’t it? Life and death.”

“It can be, if you let it be. It’s easier to just kill everything and let the darkness sort it out.”

“I suppose...” Kuja threaded his fingers together, resting his hands on one knee. “As people get older, they lose their spring. Their bodies age, like animals and plants... They go bad, like bread molds.”

“How unappetizing.”

“It’s true, though. Unless you’re gifted with a godly grace...” Kuja looked at him and smiled. “But most just waste away. And in time, I think, as fall creeps in and the leaves begin to wither and fall from the trees... as the limbs are left bare and ugly... Then, death becomes more welcome.”

“Huh.”

“It’s like... how a late frost can ruin things for the whole year. Things are green and growing, and then a frost sneaks in and kills everything off, and the whole year ends up being sort of... postponed.”

Kefka looked at him, tilting his head. “Where did you learn all this stuff about nature?”

Kuja laughed. “I’ve had a lot of time to read, in case you didn’t notice. You have all sorts of unusual books in that library.”

“Oh. I’d never thought to actually read any of them.”

“Well, don’t worry. I’ve read them for you.”

“How kind of you.”

 

That night in bed Kuja found Kefka’s behavior to be a little... odd. His touches were gentle, sweet, almost... almost covetous. When Kuja had pointed this out, the older man had winked at him.

“I suppose it’s because this is the last night before you truly become a man,” Kefka said.

“You prefer me a boy?”

The older man laughed. “You’re no boy. You may have a young body, but your eyes speak differently. Your soul is old.”

“An Esper with an old soul. Is that so odd?”

“Uwee, not at all.” Kefka was settled between Kuja’s thighs, and his long nails played idly with Kuja’s tail. “It’s just... where I came from, during 18 was a big deal.”

"Well, you can make it a big deal for me too, if you want to."

Kefka smirked, shifting his weight. "You'll have to wait until tomorrow to see."

Kuja felt a faint thrill of curiosity and excitement. Kefka tilted his head, lips pulling into a playful smile.

"Would you like it if I made a big deal out of your birthday?"

Kuja blushed. "Ah, well... I wouldn't really mind. No one ever really has before."

"What a shame," Kefka murmured, more to himself than to the young man lying prone beneath him.

"I mean, it's just how things have always been." Kuja shrugged. "It's just.. I guess it's hard to explain, really."

"Then don't bother explaining. I'll just accept it as it is." Kefka leaned down, kissing him. This kiss had lost the softness of a few minutes earlier, and Kuja found himself parting his lips to let Kefka's tongue slide between them. The older man shifted his weight again, and Kuja groaned into his mouth, remembering why they were in this position in the first place.

Kefka arched his back, pulling his mouth away from Kuja's and moving his lips down to the pale curve of the Genome's throat.

"Tomorrow," Kefka said, words mumbled into Kuja's skin. "Tomorrow, the world will see just how wonderful you are, my little Esper."

 

Kuja found it hard to fall asleep that night. The excitement that had crept upon him while he and Kefka had lain together had not left. He wanted to know what Kefka had planned for him, but the older man would give no hints. Kuja found himself teased quite mercilessly for his curiosity, and eventually forced himself to go to sleep.  
In the morning, Kuja was surprised to find himself alone in Kefka's bed. Kuja was usually the first to wake, and even when Kefka was awake first he never got out of bed first. (Actually, if Kefka got up first, it was because he was aroused. That meant neither of them were going to get out of bed any time soon.) So to find Kefka not there at all was nothing if not mildly alarming.

Or at least suspicious.

Kuja felt the sheets next to him. They clung to a faint lingering bit of heat, so Kefka hadn't been gone too long. He looked around. The lamp on the table next to the bed was lit, but the light that it cast did not reveal anything about where Kefka had gone to.

Kuja slipped out of bed, stretching. So this was eighteen. Adulthood, even. Kuja's tail twitched at the chill coming up from the floor, and he hurriedly stepped into his slippers. He'd long considered himself a man. After all, no child should have been able to do the things he could, or go through the things he already had. That wasn't even taking the whole issue of sex into consideration.

But today he was really a man. He ran his hands down the curves of his body, humming to himself. He didn't feel any different, didn't sound any different... so what was the big difference? He wasn't sure.

Kuja found his robe and pulled it on. It was winter still, after all, and still cold in Kefka's dark room. He shivered a bit and started for the door. Kuja made his way quietly up the stairs, listening for any telltale signs of where his Master might be.

No luck with the listening, though. Whatever Kefka was doing, he was doing it very quietly.

He was halfway up the stairs, heading to Kefka's dressing room, when he heard a voice ring out above him.

"Uwee, why, my Esper, what are you doing up already?"

Kuja considered this. "It's morning, isn't it?"

"Well, yes, but since it's your birthday I thought I'd let you sleep in."

"Why would you do that?"

"It's what my mother used to do on my birthday," Kefka said slowly.

"Really?"

"I... I think so." He was too high up for Kuja to see, but there was a shrug in his voice. "I don't really remember, but I seem to think she did. She was probably nice like that."

"Is she dead?" Kuja asked the question before realizing the words were coming out of his mouth. There was quiet from above. Then Kefka cleared his throat.

"Yes, she's dead. All my family is... they've been dead for a long time." Kuja heard the click of Kefka's boots on the stairs. "And no, it wasn't my doing. Lots of things happened. Sickness, a few wars... The Empire's spread was never an easy thing."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry for the dead! They're not sorry anymore. And if they haven't moved on yet, that's their own fault. They've had their chance to get on the phantom train."

"...I suppose that's true."

Kefka appeared in front of him on the stairs. His eyes surveyed Kuja's front, and then he smiled brightly.

"Uwee, I don't know what to give you first!" He giggled. "Why don't we just go up to the dressing room?"

Kuja blinked. "But, you're already dressed."

"Uwee hee, I know! But you aren't!"

"Me?" He blinked again, following Kefka dumbly up the stairs. "You got me clothes?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes." Kefka was practically hopping up the steps.

"So not going to ask what that means. I really don't need to know who you killed to get my birthday present."

"Oh, no, dear Esper, I'll leave the killing up to you!" He laughed loudly as he shoved open the heavy door to the dressing room.

"Well, then who did you threaten with bodily harm?" Kuja watched his bright green and orange backside curiously. Kefka giggled.

"That's a trade secret, my dear."

"Oh, I'm sure."

Kefka bowed a bit, sweeping his hand grandly into the dark room.

"After you."

Kuja blushed as he walked into the room. It was still dark, with just a lamp on the far side of the room lit. Nothing looked out of place. Kefka scurried past him, and then the lights came on.

"Oh, wait, I forgot, close your eyes!" Kefka cried. "I wanted this to be a surprise!"

"You're already plenty surprising, Master Kefka," Kuja said. He put his hand over his eyes as Kefka made a move as if threatening to launch himself at the younger man.

"I know, I know, but just do it!" He giggled, and Kuja heard the click of his boots.

"I hope whatever it is, it won't bite me."

"Oh, it won't as long as I got your measurements right..."

"My measurements?" A silvery brow arched. "Master Kefka, do I even want to know when you took my measurements?"

"Probably not!" Another giggle, accompanied by clicking heels. "I didn't do anything untoward, don't worry!"

"Oh, I'm sure you didn't."

Kefka's hand was cool as it touched Kuja's right wrist, just below the manacle. The skin there was still smooth, the metal mysteriously never having chafed it even after being worn continuously for weeks.

"Okay, follow me!"

Kuja did as he was told, knowing from the direction they were going that he was being led to the dressing table. Kefka stopped a few feet short of the table, though.

"Okay, here we are. Open your eyes."

Kuja wasn't sure what to expect. He pulled his eyes away, cracking his eyes open to let them adjust to the light of the lamps.

"Ta-da!" Kefka sounded entirely too pleased with himself, Kuja thought. But then his eyes finally readjusted.

In front of the dressing table was a stand that Kuja had never seen before. It was covered in layers of fabric. Kuja's first startled thought was: this must be for me. The colors were too dark, too subtle to have been for Kefka. If the older man wasn't dressed to the nines in every shade of the rainbow, then he was covering it all up with a heavy black coat. No, this had to be for himself. Kefka's questionable fashion sense was certainly at work, since the colors didn't quite match up properply, but what was presented was still nice.

The first thing Kuja really noticed was the pants. The fact that he was given pants at all gave Kuja pause. He would have otherwise thought that Kefka would have wanted easy access to him. But no...

"This is for presentation, isn't it?" Kuja looked over his shoulder at the older man. Kefka grinned broadly.

"So, you noticed?"

"It's so elaborate and pretty..." Kuja smiled, looking back at the clothing. "You want to show me off, don't you?"

"I don't see why I shouldn't," Kefka said. He shrugged. "Put it on?"

Kuja smiled. "Okay!"

There were pants, of course, done in a dark chocolate brown color. There was a long skirted waistcoat done in the dark rich color. There was embroidery on the skirt, swirling in strange patterns around the edge. More of the same creamy white threads traced patterns up along the seams of the vest. The buttons and clasps were made of bone and a strange white metal. There was a long sleeved shirt underneath, made of a smooth sleek creme colored material.

"It's all so nice," Kuja murmured as he dressed. Kefka was watching him keenly.

"Glad you think so." Kefka came over, smoothing his hands along the sleeves of Kuja's shirt. "Oh, and there's more!" He hurried over to the closet.

"More?" Kuja's gaze followed the older man's progress. "This isn't enough?"

"Oh, no, no, of course not!" Kefka returned holding a mass of dark violet colored fabric. "It's cold out right now, so... I got you a coat, too."

It was thick and heavy, made of wool that had been dyed a dark color similar to a Persian indigo. The inside was lined with the same sleek fabric as the shirt he was now wearing, but dyed the same indigo as the rest of the coat. The cuffs of the sleeves and the collar of the coat were trimmed with a gleaming white fur, and the clasps were cast with brilliant gold.

"I know it doesn't really match, but when I saw it I knew it was for you," Kefka said with a strange touch of shyness.

"It's beautiful," Kuja said as he pulled it on. "Oh, and it's so warm!"

"Uwee, I'm glad you like it..." Kefka trailed off. "I'm forgetting something, though."

"I wonder what..." Kuja tilted his head, inspecting himself in the mirror. It had been weeks since he'd been properly clothed, and the clothing that Kefka had gifted him with was far nicer than anything he had worn before on either Gaia or Terra.

"Oh, shoes! Uwee hee hee! I can't believe I forgot that, the floor is cold!" Kefka disappeared again for a moment. When he came back he was holding a pair of cream colored socks in one hand, and clutching the edge of a pair of darkly colored leather boots in the other. At first Kuja thought the boots were black, but when he looked color he realized that they were also done up in the same indigo as his coat.

"Wearing real shoes feels kind of funny after running around nearly barefoot for weeks," Kuja said as he finished clasping the gold buckles on each side of the knee-high boots. They were warm and comfortable, and Kuja imagined that his feet were quietly rejoiced at the escape from the bitter cold of the stone floor.  
Kuja's tail peeked out from underneath the edge of his coat and waistcoat.

"It's wonderful, Kefka," Kuja said, surveying himself in the mirror again. "Though I might have expected brighter colors from you."

Kefka smiled, twirling the end of his long blonde ponytail around his forefinger. "Well, I could have, but really... the colors wouldn't have suited you. I wouldn't have wanted you to look funny."

"But it's okay for you to look funny?"

Kefka swatted his arm. "I don't look funny, and you know it!"

"Master Kefka, I've told you before, if I'd seen you running around one of the towns where I'd come from I would have taken you for a clown or a court jester."

"Nonsense!" Kefka laughed, taking Kuja's hands in his own and starting for the stairs. "I'm far better looking than any clown!"

 

For lunch Kefka had assembled a mish-mash of Kuja's more favorite foods from this strange world. There was roast chocobo and soup and a bit of winter greens, and some various little cookies and candies. It had all been topped off with a large amount of wine.

"Are you having a good birthday so far?" Kefka asked. They had made their way upstairs to the observatory.

"Quite good, yes, thank you, Master." Kuja smiled, leaning on the windowsill. The sky was as brilliant and clear as ever above, and thick with clouds below. Kuja was looking to the south, and could see Albrook in the distance. Kefka had already finished his daily complaining about how the villagers had the audacity to yet again build their down up from charred rubble. Kuja was starting to find himself wondering why the people of Albrook kept rebuilding. Why not move to some place not quite so close to the mad god's tower? After all, it wasn't like the area was particularly scenic, and it was full of all sorts of unpleasant monsters.

Oh, and Kefka was there glaring at them every day too. Who could live like that? Stupid peasants, that was who.

"For your birthday, I have decided..." Kefka trailed off. He was standing and staring at the globe of light in the center of the observatory. He'd used it just a few days previous, when he felt that particular need to smite a small caravan of travelers staying near the opera house. (Kuja secretly wished that they could visit the opera house, because he'd always thought it might be fun to see an opera, but he kept that thought to himself.)

"What have you decided, Master?" Wearing all the clothes Kefka had given him was pleasantly warm, but it was also making him somewhat drowsy.

"For your birthday, I have a little task for you."

Kuja blinked. "That's a present?"

He shrugged. "Of sorts. I want you to really go all out. Show me what you've learned." Kefka grinned. "You've done so well in your magic studies, after all... would be a shame to not get to use them."

"If you think so..." Kuja nodded and turned away from the windows. "What did you have in mind?"

Kefka made a show of humming and tapping the toe of his boot on the stone floor. 

"You clearly want me to show off, that's what you said, after all." Kuja circled him. "And that's why you gave me these clothes. And you touched up my makeup for me and fed me a nice lunch."

Kefka ground his toe on the stones. "You're very observant, Kuja."

"I try." Kuja leaned over, touching the nail of his forefinger to Kefka's chin. He turned up the older man's face. Kefka was doing his best to look coy, but wasn't very good at it. "So, what is it?"

Kefka pursed his lips, looked away, and then looked back at Kuja. //"I want you to kill someone for me."

Kuja blinked. "Kill someone?"

"Mm-hmm."

"You want me to kill someone for you, on my birthday?"

"That's right. It's apt, isn't it?"

"With your backassed line of thinking, I suppose that it is." Kuja sighed softly.

"What, you don't want to?" Kefka pouted. "But I thought that you'd want to!"

"Most people don't usually think of murder when they think of birthday presents," Kuja said.

"Perhaps not, but I think that it'd be good for you."

"So you... Are wanting me to do this as a gift to me."

Kefka nodded vigorously. "Yes! Oh, and it'll make me happy, and that'll make you happy too, won't it?"

Kuja looked at him and laughed softly. "You're very persuasive, Master."

"I try."

"You still haven't told me what you want to do, exactly, though."

"You mean beyond the killing part."

"Mm-hmm."

"It's not so great a thing as you're probably hoping, I'm sure... I'd like to think it was a really good thing, but... How can one know until we really know?"

"You're stalling, Master."

"Yes, I know." Kefka hummed a few bars of some unknown tune, and then clapped his hands. "I have located a relic that I'd been looking for... for quite some time, actually. I think it'd make a marvelous gift for you, actually."

"So you want me to go find my birthday present."

"Uwee hee... yes, in a manner of speaking. I can tell you about where it is, and you can get it."

"That's not exactly the most orthodox way of delivering a birthday present, but I suppose that beggars can't be choosers."

"That's right." Kefka nodded.

"So, where is this relic held?" Kuja asked, watching Kefka's face. "And what exactly is it that I'm looking for?"

"Oh, I think you'll know it when you find it," Kefka said in an evasive tone. 

"Master!"

"Telling you what is would spoil the fun!" He stomped a heel on the stones. "I'll tell you what city it's in, and about where you can expect to find it..."

"I assume I can't just stroll in and take it, can I?"

"Mm, no, I imagine you can't." Kefka giggled. "If there's no challenge, then it wouldn't really be worth it, would it?"

Kuja hesitated. "Well... I suppose that's true." He nodded, resting his hands on his hips. "I'm up to the challenge, Master."

Kefka grinned. "That's what I was hoping to hear!"

Kuja watched as the older man hopped over to one of the northern windows. Kuja wondered, while Kefka was busy scribbling a map onto a scrap of parchment that he pulled out of his cloak, what sort of relic it was that he was being sent to retrieve. After all, if it was so wonderful, why wouldn't have Kefka wanted to keep it for himself?

"Alright, my dear, here is your map."

Kuja took the parchment and looked at it.

"Your art skills leave something to be desired, Master."

"Ha! They probably do. But you should still be able to figure things out." Kefka pointed with a long nail. "This is where we are. There's Tzen, and there's that village of rat bastards who don't--"

"Albrook."

Kefka cleared his throat. "Yes, that's Albrook. Anyhoo. Up here is the kingdom of Figaro." Kefka muttered something under his breath, and then cleared his throat again.   
"This is the Figaro mountains, this is the Figaro desert.." More muttering. Kefka kicked the toe of his boot on the floor. "Here's the town of South Figaro."

"Very creative naming scheme."

"Isn't it, though?" Kefka tapped his nail in the middle of the desert he had drawn. "This is where the Figaro castle used to be. But it disappeared a few months ago."

"Disappeared?"

"Yes." Kefka sneered at the paper. "The king of Figaro was a little technological wiz-kid."

"Was?"

"Uwee, yes. I would hope that he was dead by now."

"Ah."

"Either way, the castle has the ability to submerge itself under the sands of the desert. It supposedly has the ability to move through the desert sands, but I'll believe that when I see it." Kefka shook his head. "I was looking through the library with you earlier this month, remember? There was a book there that mentioned that the Figaro desert actually used to be a veritable paradise before the war of the Magi. There was a place here, just to the west of the mountains, that was called Figaro's Keep."

"What did they keep there?"

"Well, it seems that people didn't keep anything there at all. It was a massive dragon's den. During the war of the Magi there was a magician there, name lost, who dwelt amongst the dragons there."

"That was rather brave of him."

"Brave, or mad." Kefka giggled. "The magician died during the war, and the keep and the paradise surrounding it eventually were destroyed and became a massive desert. But there are rumors that the magician left behind a very powerful item in the keep."

"And that's what I'm going to find?"

Kefka nodded. "Except that the relic isn't there anymore."

"It's not? I thought you said..."

"Oh, I did. But I checked the area where the Keep was, and it was scoured of everything valuable a long time ago. All of Figaro's treasures were initially kept in the old Figaro castle. But that castle was destroyed a few hundred years ago, and South Figaro was built there in its place."

"So you think the relic is somewhere in South Figaro?"

"Mm-hmm. Pretty sure of it, at the least. The relic shop there in town always had a few interesting things in it... but I don't think it's kept there." Kefka grinned. "I suppose you'll have to do a bit of snooping around, but I'm confident you'll find it."

"And if I don't?"

"What do you mean, if you don't?" Kefka waved a hand dismissively. "You'll find it."

"Well..."

"You'll find it," he repeated in a firm voice. Kuja looked at him, and nodded.

"I'll find it."


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15  
  
That afternoon Kuja prepared himself for the journey ahead, packing a few things into his old bag. Kefka had given him another once-over, making sure he looked good enough, and then sent him off.  
  
Kefka dropped Kuja off at the foot of the mountains. There was a dusty trail at his feet, covered in dried mud and imprinted with chocobo tracks. The trail led off to the northeast, and Kuja could see the spire of a watchtower at some distance. He started walking, pace brisk. He felt much better about being out in the wilds than the last time he'd found himself deposited in the middle of nowhere.  
  
Walking led him to the edge of the sea. Its waters were still and colored dark red, as if they had run thick with blood. Kuja skirted around the southern edge of the inlet and eventually reached the city of South Figaro. By then the sky behind him was starting to tinge with the oncoming night. Kuja found that this did not trouble him, and he continued on into town. It was still fairly active at this time of night, and people were milling about between the shops and the tavern. It did not take long for Kuja to start earning curious stares. He knew his tail was showing, the tip was peeking out from underneath his coats. But the quality of his clothing itself... He was much better off than many of the people who were stopping to stare at him.   
  
That was Kefka's doing, Kuja mused. He scanned the faces of the people. Some were suspicious, others fearful. The children that stopped and stared at him did so with a curious, uncertain comprehension. They were too young to really understand what had happened a year earlier.  
  
No one was really happy to see him, though.  
  
For a brief moment Kuja felt bad. But then he remembered: these people were just stupid peasants. They were of the same ilk that would have killed him in Tzen a month and a half ago. Kuja tossed his hair, shooting a challenging look at a burly man with black hair. The man tucked his chin to his chest and looked away, and hurried out of Kuja's way.  
  
That was easy, Kuja thought. Was he really that intimidating? He'd always thought himself to be rather small and unimpressive, but... perhaps he had been wrong.  
  
"I'm better than all of you, and you'd better not forget it," Kuja said under his breath. A pair of old women whispered urgently at each other, their eyes like little bugs in their wrinkled faces as they flicked between each other and Kuja and back again.  
  
"That's right, stare," Kuja whispered. He felt his posture stiffen, back straightening. "I'm worth staring at." He laughed at this, probably louder than he should have. More eyes fell on him.  
  
They were all whispering now. A name sounded repeatedly on the still night air, echoing like a fearful prayer.  
  
Kefka, they were all saying. He was sent by Kefka.  
  
"Kefka has an Esper?" He could hear the anxious whispering of a man from somewhere behind him. "Impossible! They would never work for him, after he killed so many before."  
  
Kuja had heard about that. Kefka had told him about how he'd harvested other Espers to gain their magicite and their power. He knew he should have felt upset about it, but he felt disconnected from those Espers. He was something better, something else entirely.  
  
"I heard about something like this from my brother," another voice said. Kuja was moving slowly past the shops, looking in the windows and peering at the wares. To their credit, none of the vendors tried to shoo him away, but their distrust and fear was palpable.  
  
"Oh yeah? Which one?"  
  
"My older brother, in Tzen. Back 'bout a month and a half ago, I guess it was. They found this funny looking Esper wandering around. It got attacked by a monster and they saved it from being killed."  
  
"S'that so? I thought all the Espers had either been killed or had run off."  
  
"Well, yeah, but they said they could tell it was an Esper. They held it in the basement of that rich fellow's mansion, but the Esper escaped during the night."  
  
"Shit, really?"  
  
"Yep." The man sighed. "And not but just a few days later, Kefka used the Light of Judgment on Tzen."  
  
"For holing up his Esper, you think?"  
  
"Must've been. They're rebuilding, but..."  
  
"Fuckin' Kefka."  
  
"Shh, not so loud!" one of the shopkeepers hissed at the man. "Do you want the same thing to happen to us?"  
  
Kuja smirked and continued on down the street. The murmurs followed him, borne through the still night air on their own ill wind.  
  
He eventually made his way out of the business district. There were little rows of houses here, topped off by a large mansion in the middle of the residential sector. Kuja climbed a stairway, and could see the ocean again. There was a boat docked on the other side of the city. A ferry to nowhere, it seemed.  
  
Kuja turned slowly. From this vantage point he could see most of the city. The sun was setting now, and shadows were being thrown across everything. The time of the blood red light had come again, and it brought a smile to Kuja's lips. As he basked in it, he realized why it comforted him so. It was like home, old home. The red light of Terra. The light of a dead world.  
  
Kuja frowned and shook his head. No, now wasn't the time to think about that sort of thing. He was here to find his birthday present.  
  
"Let's see. If I was an ancient relic, where would I be?" Kuja scanned the city again. He doubted it would be kept in the business district. The residential area was a possibility, but would take a long time to check. Kuja walked along a bridge that crossed over a dried up riverbed. Upon reaching the other side he stopped.  
Perhaps he should ask someone? Kuja considered his options, and then doubled back to the business district. With the failing light a few lamps had been lit, but most people had went inside. Kuja found the sign marking the entrance to the relic's shop.  
There was a man behind the counter. He was writing out figures on a large piece of paper, and didn't look up when Kuja entered.  
  
"I'm sorry, but we're closed for the night," the man said.  
  
"I don't care," Kuja replied. His boots clacked satisfyingly along the wooden floor of the shop as he moved across the room. The walls were covered in shelves, and all sorts of trinkets were displayed there. He could sense a variety of powers coming from these items, but knew that none of the ones displayed were what he was looking for. "I'm looking for a relic, and this is a relic shop, isn't it? So I'm here."  
  
"But, we're closed..." The man trailed off. He had looked up and seen Kuja.  
  
"I'm not here to buy anything," Kuja said. He reached the counter and stared down at the man. "I need to know where this town keeps its particularly rare artifacts."  
  
"I... you mean rare relics?"  
  
Kuja nodded. The man's eyes darted out to the contents of the shelves, and Kuja knew he was not going to get an honest answer out of this man.  
  
"Most of them are kept at the mansion," the shopkeeper said after a moment. He wouldn't look back up at Kuja.  
  
"The mansion?"  
  
"Yes, that's right." The shopkeeper got up from his little stool, licking his lips. "There's a special entrance just for merchants, you see. And if you go through that entrance there's a hidden path that you can take to the place where rare relics are kept."  
  
"How kind of you to tell me that," Kuja said. He was rubbing his thumb and forefinger together, wondering how seriously he could take the man's statement. Kuja stared the man in the eye, and in response the man let out a nervous cough and looked away.  
  
"That's all I know."  
  
Kuja arched a brow, then shrugged and turned away. "Thank you for your time, good sir."  
  
He was at the doorway when he heard a clink of metal behind him. Kuja didn’t really have to turn to know that the shop keeper had drawn a sword on him. He didn’t even really take the time to wonder where the sword had come from. As he turned in the doorway he drew his right hand to his chest.   
  
“Such manners in this town,” Kuja said, smiling faintly. He took a step out the door. “My Master really was right about you people.”  
  
The man opened his mouth to speak, but stopped when Kuja threw his right hand back into the shop. Kuja did not bother with incantations. He drew upon what Kefka had taught him and called forth the magic with his very being.  
  
“Flare!”  
  
There was a brief moment where Kuja found himself relishing the stunned expression on the shop keeper’s face, and then it was gone. There was an immense twisting explosion of heat and light, and then the entire shop exploded. Kuja calmly turned and walked away even as the windows blew out. There was a scream from inside the shop, but Kuja continued on his way.  
  
These people were shady and difficult, Kuja thought. They had to be hiding something. Or perhaps it really was just because they didn’t like Kefka and assumed he was in league with the mad god.  
  
“Well, bother.” Kuja rested his hands on his hips and surveyed the town center. People, drawn out by the noise of the explosion, were peering from cracked open doors and half-shuttered windows. Maybe blowing something up hadn’t been the best course of action, since these people would probably all free from him now rather than talking, but it had helped him shake off a bit of tension that had been building up inside of him. It made him feel better, and that was really more important than wasting time getting information out of dimwitted peasants anyways.  
  
“So where to look next...” Kuja considered the words of the shopkeeper again. There may have been some thread of truth in them, but it was hard to say for sure. And now that he had blown the shopkeeper up, well... The man wasn’t going to be telling him anything else either.  
  
There was fresh screaming now behind him. The fire started by the explosion in the relic shop was spreading. A smile played on Kuja’s lips.  
  
“Might as well help things along...” Kuja said. He waved his arm, casting a few fire spells onto the nearest store fronts. Then he continued on. He had just crossed the bridge where he’d stopped to think the first time when he paused again. Kuja looked at the dry riverbed. Further on there was a stone wall, and beyond that the harbor of South Figaro. It was nearly dark now, but the lights burning at the harbor cast light upon waters that were a deep dark blue, rather than the sluggish blood red of the surrounding ocean. That was unusual, wasn’t it? Perhaps there was some magic here at work in this city after all...  
  
Kuja walked a few paces along the dried river bed. He looked back at the bridge, and noticed something. A strange faint gleam of light coming from underneath the bridge. Kuja hopped down the dried banks of the riverbed and made his way underneath the bridge. It was there that he spotted the hole. All things considered, when the river was full the hole probably would have been completely filled with water. But now it was dry and exposed. The light, he found, came from a line of glowing stones that followed the line of the bridge. The light would have been reflected if there had been water present, and it would have helped guide travelers along the dark path. Kuja squatted, looking at the stones. They were covered in a faint glowing fuzz. Some natural oddity, and not magic.   
  
Kuja stood, looking at the hole. It was just big enough around for a large man to fit into. The hole was artificial, that much was clear. It was not caused by stones falling away from the wall. Instead the stones had been cut into a nearly perfect circle. There were notches around the edge of the hole, where Kuja suspected a grate once fit into to keep things from going from the river and into the hole.  
  
For a moment he looked back in the direction of the business district. It was burning brightly now, and people were running about in a panic. There was a clatter of boots on the bridge above him, and Kuja held himself still.  
  
“They said it was heading toward the harbor!”  
  
“Oh, hell! I wish the king was here, he would know what to do!”  
  
The voices and footsteps faded, and Kuja turned his attention back to the hole. It gaped darkly, and Kuja’s curiosity was piqued. He picked up on of the smaller glowing stones and gently tossed it into the blackness of the hole. It bounced a few times, then clattered and rolled out of sight. The light cast by the stone showed Kuja a small tunnel that curved gently downwards.  
  
“...what the hell.” He knew Kefka was watching him. By now the older man was probably wondering what the hell Kuja was doing, but Kuja was no dumb monkey. Yes, his magic had gotten much better in the last few weeks, but he really didn’t want to face down a mob of villagers with pitchforks or whatever it was they used for their mobs in South Figaro. Sneaking about seemed like a much more productive way of doing things.  
  
Well, except for blowing up the relic shop. That had proved to be a fortunate distraction, at the least. The smell of smoke was wafting toward him on the night air. Kuja shrugged and slipped into the hole. The tunnel it led to was more or less the same size as its entrance, and Kuja had no trouble scooting down. Eventually, after dropping down about thirty feet the path evened out. Kuja found the stone that he had tossed in, and picked it up. It was pitch black here, and Kuja could use any illumination he could find.   
  
Kuja crawled along. His elbows and knees were beginning to smart, but he pressed on. This tunnel was likely an old sewer line, he thought. Either that or something else disguised as a sewer line.   
  
After ten minutes or so, the tunnel ended, and opened abruptly over him. Kuja stood and held up the glowing rock. Its light was too weak for him to see very far over his head. There was a menace intended squeak, and as Kuja looked about him he could see dozens of pairs of beady glowing red eyes.  
  
“Rats,” he muttered. “Fucking rats.” A few of the rats moved closer, their claws scratching unpleasantly on the stones beneath their feet. Kuja waited until the little red eyes were close enough, and then he used Thundara on the whole lot of them. The rats squeaked in alarm and scurried out of sight. “If only Burmecians were that easy to get rid of...” He brushed off the front of his coat and pants. Kuja set down the glowing stone and held out his right hand. He started a small Fire spell in his palm and raised his arm.  
  
It was a large chamber. The ground was littered with all sorts of trash, mostly things that had slipped in when the river was running. There was a faint dark line high up on the chamber walls. Below it the walls were caked in old dark mud, and above it the walls were clean stone. The old water line, Kuja suspected. Craning his neck to scan what was above the water line, Kuja noticed another hole high up on the wall. It was about ten feet over his head... Kuja noticed that there was an old torch still in its sconce next to the hole. Kuja considered where he was in the town, and deduced that the hole up there more than likely led to the great mansion that the shopkeeper had mentioned during his last moments.  
  
“But this isn’t the path the shopkeeper was talking about,” Kuja said softly. His voice echoed back to him on the chamber walls. “No merchant would go through that to get into the place.”  
  
There was a tiny, terrified squeak at his feet. Kuja looked down. A few of the rats had come back, and were sitting about five feet away. Kuja held out his hand. They were big ugly creatures, purple and brown with little horns between their eyes. Strange rats, Kuja thought. The rats squeaked again, and Kuja got the unusual impression that they were trying to tell him something.  
  
This was ridiculous. Kefka had made no mention of rats when he had told him about what he was going to be doing in South Figaro. What kind of crazy birthday present was this, anyways?  
  
One of the rats came forward, right up to the toe of Kuja’s boot. He suppressed the urge to kick the little beastie away, and watched it. The rat was old, its fur was tinged with gray. The old rat squeaked, rising up its hindquarters for a moment, then dropping back down. It repeated the motion.  
  
“What do you want?” Kuja asked softly. “I don’t have any food, and I’ll fry the lot of you if you try to nibble on me.”   
  
The old rat raised up again and looked at him. It really was an odd thing, to be underground in an old sewer with a giant rat looking at you. The rat dropped back down, then hurried back to its companions. The rats squeaked, and Kuja thought that they sounded almost... anxious. The rats ran back to the wall, scrambled several feet up, and disappeared into a dark spot on the mud.  
  
No, not a dark spot, Kuja realized, but another hole. He felt a pang of disappointment, because even though they were giant purple and brown sewer rats, he was still far too big to fit into the hole they’d disappeared into.  
  
The old rat peeked out from the darkness and squeaked. It disappeared again, and Kuja heard a soft scratching noise. The noise was unusual, considering they were in a stone chamber. It was the sound of little claws on wood. The ugly face of the old rat appeared again, and it gave an almost impatient sounding squeak. Was he really that stupid?  
  
“I’m not stupid,” Kuja said, voice echoing. “I just don’t know what...”  
  
There was a door there, he realized. It was hard to see, but it was there. The surface was caked over with the same dark mud as the rest of the chamber. Grimacing a bit, he stabbed his fingers into the mud beneath the rat hole. It gave way and dropped to the floor of the chamber in thick clumps. There was wood underneath, dark with water and time and age. He heard the excited squeaking of rats as he pried away more mud. The edge of a door came into view, and then an old metal handle. It was rusted and disgusting, but Kuja was determined now. He could have a nice shower later when he got back to Kefka’s tower, after all, and he couldn’t go back until he figured out what the hell he was looking for. And looking in a sewer filled with giant rats was as good a thing as any to be doing at a point when he had no real leads.  
Kuja gripped the handle on the door. The old metal bit into his fingers, but he held fast and gave it a tug. He wished he was a little burlier as he gave another tug. The door did not budge. Kuja let go of the handle and moved two paces away from the door.  
  
“Water!” The brief torrent of water washed over the door, clearing away the muck. The outline of the door came into view. He cast Water a second time, washing away the last of the mud clinging to the door. He returned to the old wood and gripped the handle again.   
  
It took four more tugs before the door gave way. There was a faint hiss of air decompressing, and the stink of rats followed. Kuja’s nose wrinkled as he pulled the door the rest of the way open. A bit of water pooled at his feet, but he ignored it. The door led to a new tunnel, about four and a half feet high. He stooped over, back nearly brushing the top of the tunnel, and went inside.  
  
The tunnel went on quite a ways. The occasional squeaking from the rats met his ears, and he could see the beady eyes of the old rat moving in front of him in the darkness. When the tunnel ended in a new chamber, he stood and brought a bit of fire to his palm again. The new chamber was nearly as big of the first, but unlike the first it was full of rats. Dozens of them, perhaps even as many as a hundred. The floor of this chamber was horribly uneven and covered in mud and dried grass and other things that Kuja decided he’d rather not think about. The smell was bad enough, he didn’t really need to think about *why* it smelled.  
  
The old rat made its way back to him, squeaked, and scrambled over one of the large lumps on the floor. Kuja followed, picking his way across the muck. The rats, for the most part, kept a careful distance from him. He found the old rat again on the other side of the room. It had stopped next to another large lump in the ground. Closer inspection revealed to Kuja that the lump was in fact an old wooden chest of some sort. Its side was covered in a coating of mud and dried grass, but the other side was nearly pristine dark black leather. There was a hole in the mud where the chest had apparently become dislodged from. He could see a spot of old rotted wood at the bottom of the hole.  
  
A pitiful noise came from behind the chest, and the old rat ran to where the noise had come from. Kuja leaned, and noticed a long wormy tail sticking out from behind the leather.  
  
“Oh, I see. You need help.” There was much squeaking from the rats. He leaned down, fingering running along the side of the chest and looking for a handhold. He stopped, feeling a tingle on his fingers. That was odd. It felt like... “Magic?” Very old magic, in fact. The sort that had sat for hundreds of years undisturbed until a rat got a little too boisterous and knocked it over. Kuja found a little handle on the front of the chest and pulled it away from the wall.  
  
With a downright joyous rat screech, a new rat appeared. Its fur was a dark lustrous purple, with not a spot of brown on it. The other rats squeaked little happy rat squeaks, moving closer but still careful not to get too close to Kuja. The purple rat looked frazzled, but otherwise unharmed. It rubbed snouts with the old rat, and then looked up at Kuja. This was the leader of the rats, Kuja suspected. How long it had been behind the chest was hard to say, but it looked quite happy to be free. Happy as a rat could be, at least. The purple rat climbed back onto the chest and patted the leather a few times with its clawed foot.  
  
“I can have this?”  
  
There was an affirmative squeak, and the purple rat hopped free from its prison. Kuja brushed off some of the mud from the front of the chest--what was a little more mud on him at this point anyways--and found the clasps to open the box. There was a lock on each, thick and impressive, but not so impressive that he wasn’t able to break them off with a little creative use of Fire and Blizzard spells. The rats sat on the other side of the chamber, watching him with their little red eyes. Kuja was rather glad that they were keeping their distance, because despite the fact that they hadn’t really done anything at all to harm him, they still creeped him out.  
  
Kuja opened the chest, and a musty smile wafted up to his nose. The inside of the chest was packed tightly with straw. On the surface of the straw several magic stones had been pressed into the hay. Kuja collected them and tucked them into one of the pockets in his bag. He pulled away the straw, tossing it onto one of the muddy lumps next to him. Perhaps the rats could get some use out of it. Halfway through the chest doubt was starting to creep into him. Wasn’t there something else in here? They had to be, he could still feel a lingering thread of magic coming from somewhere in the hay.  
  
His fingers touched stone, cold and smooth. Kuja eagerly pulled away more straw until he found what was hidden away inside.  
  
It was the figure of a dragon, carved into a rich green stone. The dragon was about three inches long and holding a smaller red stone between its fore paws. Its tail came to a strange flared end with a notch and hole set into it. There was a long, intricately tooled black leather strap attached to the the back of the figure.  
  
At it positively oozed magic energy.  
  
“Found you,” Kuja murmured. He turned the dragon over slowly with his free hand, then gathered it up. Not knowing what else to do with it for now, he looped the leather strap around his neck and tucked the dragon into his coat. It was cool but strangely reassuring against his skin.  
  
There was squeaking next to him. A few of the rats had overcome their fear of the young man and were investigating the straw. Kuja decided that now would probably be a good time to leave. It would be a long unpleasant crawl and climb back to the surface. He closed his eyes and thought of one of the newer spells that Kefka had been teaching him. He murmured the words to the Warp spell, visualizing his destination in his mind.  
  
The air shifted around him, and when he opened his eyes he found himself standing underneath the bridge again. He sighed, brushing himself off again. Now he just had to get back to Kefka’s tower. The distance was too far for he to teleport himself, unfortunately. Kuja made his way up the bank of the dried up river. If Kefka was watching him, why hadn’t he brought him home already?  
  
He stood on the bridge, looking off to the business district. It was still in flames, but there wasn’t as much shouting now as there had been before. Kuja turned slowly, facing into a slight breeze that was blowing in from the harbor. He looked back to the south, but Kefka’s tower was too far away for the light at the top to be visible. He raised his arms to the dark sky.  
  
“Master...”  
  
“Stop right there, young lady.”  
  
Kuja froze, slowly lowering his arms to his sides. A voice had sounded from behind him. He turned slowly, and something whizzed by his left ear.  
  
“I told you to stop. So don’t move.”  
  
He couldn’t help but turn the rest of the way around, ignoring as a second something whizzed past his head. Kuja found himself facing a tall man. The man was wearing a gray cloak, but Kuja could see a bit of blonde hair peeking out from under the hood on the cloak. The man had bright blue eyes that flashed dangerously as he leveled what looked like a bizarre crossbow at Kuja.  
  
“I’m no lady,” Kuja said. The man paused, tilting his head a bit.  
  
“So you are not. My apologies, such beauty is misleading.” The man cleared his throat. “I don’t know what Kefka sent you here to do, but I would suggest that you give it up and leave.”  
  
Kuja straightened up a bit. “Are you challenging me?”  
  
“No, I’m not.” The man raised the crossbow a bit. “I’m ordering you to leave.”  
  
He snorted, tail lashing underneath his coat. What could a stupid peasant with a crossbow do to him? “Make me!”  
  
“So be it.”  
  
Kuja dodged even as the man’s finger was moving to the trigger on the crossbow. A bolt sliced through the air above Kuja’s shoulder, and a second followed mere milliseconds later. The man’s weapon was some sort of bizarre machinated crossbow, Kuja realized.  
  
“Fire!” He cast over his shoulder, barely having to aim at the man. He skidded to a stop on the dry grass on the other side of the bridge and turned back to face the man. The Fire spell reached the stranger, but was deflected by a shimmer of light in front of the man and bounced back at Kuja. The man had Reflect up? Perhaps this was no regular peasant. Kuja canceled out the reflected Fire spell with a flash of Blizzard, and dodged to the side as several more bolts flew at him.  
  
“Don’t you think I’d come prepared for a fight against one of Kefka’s flunkies? The man called after him in a taunting voice.   
  
“Flunkies?!” Kuja rolled back onto his feet. Who was this man calling a flunky? “You bastard!”  
  
The man raised his crossbow again, but stopped and stepped back when he realized that his opponent was actually running towards him. Kuja’s image shimmered in front of himself for a moment, and then the younger man raised a hand.  
  
“Thundara!” The spell struck his own reflect and bounced to the man in grey, then back again before hitting the man head on. He reeled backwards, recovering just in time for Kuja’s foot to collide with his right hand. The crossbow went flying, and the man swore. Kuja shoved his elbow into the man’s stomach, but didn’t weigh enough to succeed in knocking him over.   
  
Kuja dashed several yards away, but rather than give chase the man recovered his weapon and resumed shooting at him.  
  
“Fire!” Kuja cast again carelessly, too busy dodging to bother aiming. He stumbled as one of the bolts hit home, stabbing through his coat and into his thigh. “Fuck!” Kuja lost his momentum and hit the ground hard. He was pushing back to his feet when several more bolts struck him.  
  
“Hope Kefka doesn’t mind getting his pet back in a box,” the man said as he reloaded the crossbow. “Do me a favor, pretty boy, and tell Kefka that his days are numbered.”  
  
Kuja staggered to his feet, collecting his bag from where he’d dropped it upon falling. The dragon charm was cold against his skin now, and he pulled it out. In a daze of pain he looked at it, and the shape of the tail caught his eye again. He had seen it on little playthings that the children in Alexandria had carried around.   
  
It was a whistle.  
  
Kuja brought the charm to his lips. The man wasn’t quite watching him, he was having trouble reloading the crossbow due to some damage taken when Kuja had kicked it out of his hands. Kuja blew into the whistle. He didn’t hear anything, and, annoyed, blew again.  
  
Nothing.  
  
“Shit.” Kuja tucked the charm back away. He looked down. There were three bolts sticking out of his left leg, and a fourth was in his right. He could barely muster the strength to stand from the wounded limbs. “Master, please...”  
  
The ground underneath their feet shook. Both Kuja and the man looked around, confused. What was happening?  
  
With a deafening roar, the massive form of a dragon appeared over the town.  
  
“What the hell?” The man looked up at it, paling. Kuja touched his chest. Was that what the relic was for?   
  
The dragon roared again, swooping low over South Figaro. It swept down between Kuja and his opponent, nearly knocking both to the ground. Kuja reclaimed enough of his senses to grab at the dragon as it passed, fingers clenching and digging into thick scales. The dragon made a faint sound of protest and began to climb into the sky. Kuja pulled himself up onto the dragon’s back, shoulders aching almost as much as his legs. He pulled out the charm and blew on it again, and the dragon slowed in its ascent, calming a bit.  
  
“I need to get back to my Master!” Kuja shouted at the dragon. The beast made an annoyed noise as several bolts struck its scaly underbelly. The man had gotten back to his feet and wasn’t giving up.  
  
Far off to the south, Kuja saw a glimmer of light. His brain was getting fuzzy from pain and blood loss, and it took him a long moment to register what it was.  
  
“Up, up, up!” Kuja blew on the charm again and tugged at one of the spines protruding from the dragon’s neck. The beast roared and climbed again.  
  
A great finger of light lanced out from the south. It slammed into the buildings of South Figaro’s residential area, blowing several up. Kefka had sent the Light of Judgment to South Figaro.  
  
Kuja managed to convince the dragon that heading south was a good idea, and leaned a bit to watch what was happening below.  
  
The city was in flames, and the people that had come out to see what was up with the dragon were now running around in a panic, if they weren’t already dead on the ground. Kuja smiled grimly, even as he felt his grip on the dragon failing.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

When he woke, he was back in Kefka’s tower, on Kefka’s bed. There was a stinging pain in his legs, but otherwise he felt fine.

"Don't move yet, little Esper," Kefka said. Kuja turned his head, and saw the older man sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Master..." Kuja groaned. He opted for ignoring his orders and pushed himself into a seated position. "What happened?"

"You fell off," Kefka said. He looked amused.

"I'm not really used to riding dragons," Kuja said. He looked down at himself. He was nude, which wasn't really a surprise. There were bright pink marks on his legs.

"Don't worry, they won't scar. You just need another round of Curing." Kefka leaned over to the nightstand. He picked up one of several bloodstained wooden bolts that were lying on the table. "I couldn't see very well for myself, Kuja..."

"What?"

"Tell me what that man you fought with looked like," Kefka said. He looked at the bolt and frowned.

"Um... Well, he was tall, at least six feet or so... Handsome enough, I guess." Kuja rubbed his forehead. "Blonde hair, blue eyes..." Kuja trailed off when he noticed Kefka making a face. "What?"

"Blue like what?"

"What do you mean?"

"Blue like mine-" he pointed at his icy aquamarine eyes "-or blue like yours?"

Kuja's brow wrinkled as he tried to remember. It had been dark out, and there had only been one time that he'd gotten a clear look at the man's face.

"A brilliant blue, really... like... lapis lazuli."

Kefka was frowning now and turning the bolt in his pale hands. "I see..."

"Master, what's wrong?" Kuja was mildly disturbed as he looked at the bolt in Kefka's hands. The bolt's smooth wood was stained dark in places, and Kuja knew that the stains were from his own blood.

"I thought that man was dead," Kefka murmured.

"I'm sorry I couldn't kill him for you, Master," Kuja said. "The opportunity didn't really present itself."

Kefka shrugged. "It's not your fault. He's one of those sorts that are as resilient as those oglop creatures." The older man set down the bolt amongst its siblings.

"Who is he?"

"If he is who I think he is, then his name is Edgar. The king of Figaro." Kefka's nose wrinkled.

"Do you want me to go back and kill him for you, Master?"

Kefka blinked, looking up. Surprise made the red lines on his face distort. "Don't worry about that right now, my dear."

"Any enemy of yours is an enemy of mine, isn't that right?"

Kefka laughed faintly. "Uwee, yes, I suppose that's true too. But I will take care of him myself."

"Are you sure?"

"Do you doubt me?"

Kuja shook his head, unable to shake the bit of unease that overtook him when he saw the unfocused look in Kefka's eyes.

"That Edgar fellow... he didn't really seem very happy to see me."

"I don't suppose he would be," Kefka said. "He was one of the Returners, those people I've told you about."

"The ones who tried to stop you from becoming a god?"

Kefka nodded. "The same." He scooted onto the bed, sitting next to Kuja and leaning back against the headboard.

"You're not going to fight them again, are you? What if something bad happens?"

Kefka looked at him, something dark flitting across his features. "What, you don't think I could handle them?"

"It's not that, just..." Kuja sighed.

"I'm more than a match for those meddlesome pests." Kefka wiggled his feet, then offered a smile. "Don't worry about me."

He blushed, turning his face away. "I'm not worried about you, Master Kefka. What would make you think such a thing?"

"Uwee hee, I can tell when you're lying, you know."

"Oh, hush!"

Kefka burst out laughing, though it quickly trailed off into quiet. "So tell me, Kuja. How do you like your present?"

He blinked, looking around. "What did you do with it?"

"Safe and sound," Kefka said. He pulled the dragon charm from somewhere in his cloak. The long leather strap attached to it was a tangled mess, and Kuja quietly set about to fixing the problem.

"It's very pretty," Kefka observed. Kuja nodded. "That looks sort of like a holy dragon."

"A holy dragon?"

Kefka nodded, picking the charm while Kuja worked at the strap. "There are eight legendary dragons that are said to keep the world in balance. There's, let's see... ice, fire, water, holy, earth, storm, gold, and... umm... what's he called." Kefka tapped a nail on his chin. "Oh, the skull dragon! That's right."

"How do you know about them?" Kuja wondered.

"Was one of those things I picked up while around professor Cid." Kefka shrugged. "That and I have two of the dragons in my possession."

"You have *what*?!"

Kefka looked at him casually. "The gold dragon and the skull dragon, they're kept away in my tower."

"I had no idea."

"They're very well kept. But a bit ill tempered."

Kuja looked at the charm. "How did you come across such powerful monsters?"

Kefka smiled. "Oh, I found them. The legendary dragons started appearing after I destroyed the world, so I imagine they were released after I disturbed the balance of the goddesses."

"I see." Kuja held the charm up, watching the watch the smooth green surfaces caught the lamplight. "Why not all eight of them?"

"Well, I just haven't found them all yet, to be honest." Kefka giggled. "I'm not really sure where I'd keep them all, anyways!"

"All the more reason to expand, then."

"Uwee, yes, like I needed a reason." He hummed to himself, looking at Kuja. "So, have you figured out what your present is good for yet?"

Kuja touched a nail to the red stone in the dragon's grasp. "It lets me control dragons, doesn't it?"

"Mmm, in a manner of speaking, I believe it does."

"It would help explain why that magician was able to live in the Dragon's Keep and not be eaten."

Kefka nodded. "Yes, though I sometimes think there might have been something else in effect there..."

"Like what?"

"Well, perhaps the dragons just liked him."

"Dragons do that?"

"I don't see why not. There's always strange incidents of monsters or animals befriending humans. And dragons are fairly intelligent creatures when they want to be. Smart as humans, at least. Probably smarter than your average peasant."

"I don't know, I never really looked at a dragon before and thought, 'ooh look, a giant scaly chocobo!'"

Kefka chuckled. "I suppose you wouldn't. But... I suppose it's possible. Anything's possible."

"I'm here, after all."

"Yes..." Kefka grinned. "So, good enough present for you?"

"I think so." Kuja smiled over at him. "Though I would have preferred not having to put up with all the rats."

"Uwee, it builds character!"

"Having to put up with rats builds character?"

"Sure it does! I used to have to put up with rats."

"I'm not entirely sure I'd say you were of a worthy character, Master Kefka."

The blonde smirked. "I've plenty of it if you know what to look for."

"I bet you do." Kuja draped the strap of the charm around his neck, the charm resting below his collarbone like a pendant. "Why did you have to put up with rats?"

"Again, it was back when I was working with Cid." Kefka's nose wrinkled again for a moment. "Not the nicest lab in the Empire, admittedly. For awhile what he was doing was considered to be quite hush hush and underground. So we were stuck... well, underground."

"That's not too nice."

"No. Vector's underground really isn't a very pleasant place at all. But, like I said. Character."

Kuja smiled, touching the charm. "I like your character, Master."

Kefka smirked. "You're just saying that because you never got your birthday sex."

"I am not!" He laughed, swatting at Kefka's arm.

"Uwee, don't lie, I can tell!" Kefka scooted a little closer on the bed.

"Well, maybe a little." Kuja stretched, his back stiff. "What time is it?"

"Nearly time for bed."

"What?!"

"You were out for over half the day, Kuja," Kefka said. "I didn't want to wake you up."

"Did I hit my head or something?"

"No, I caught you and brought you here before you hit the ground. But I think you were in shock. And you lost a lot of blood."

Kefka looked down at the perpetually dark red sheets, and wondered what their color hid.

"I think we should get you something to eat so you can get your strength back," Kefka said. "Sex can wait until tomorrow."

Kuja stared at the covers for another moment, and then looked over at his Master. "You care about me that much, Master Kefka?"

"Of course I do!" Kefka looked surprisingly hurt by Kuja's question. He looked down at his lap, fidgeting with the edge of his cloak. "You.. you're all I have, Kuja."

Kuja blinked, unsure how to react to the unusual sincerity in Kefka's voice. "Master..."

"Oh, don't say anything," Kefka said, waving a hand at him. "You'll make me out to be some kind of sap, and I don't need word getting out that I might actually be *nice* to someone."

"Oh, I see how it is." Kuja patted Kefka's arm. "Don't worry, Master, I won't let anyone know."

"You're too kind." Kefka leaned over, pressing a kiss to Kuja's cheek. "What would you like to eat?"

"Is there any birthday cake left?"

"Uwee, yes, but you need something more substantial than that." Kefka made his way to the edge of the bed and swung his legs over. The man was so small and slight that sometimes Kuja couldn't help but mentally compare him to a child. And yet...

"Kefka?"

The older man hopped to the floor. "Hmm?" He smoothed the front of his satiny blue shirt.

"Why did you use the Light of Judgment on South Figaro?"

Kefka considered this for a moment. He grinned. "I felt like it." He hopped off, waving a hand. "I had your clothes cleaned, you can put back on whatever you'd like..."

"Okay." Kuja followed him up to the dressing room. Looking at his clothes, which had been cleaned. It was impossible to tell that he'd been crawling around in a dried up sewer and dealing with rats the night before.

"Master?"

"Yes?" Kefka looked up from where he was seated at the dressing table.

"I've never thought to ask, but... where do you get everything?"

Kefka had wiped off part of his makeup, which had mysteriously smudged, and was reapplying it. "What do you mean?"

"The food, the clothes, things like that. You said you didn't kill anyone to get it, so... how?"

Kefka shrugged. "Members of my cult."

"You have a cult?" Kuja wiggled into his chocolate-y brown pants.

"Of course I do, I'm a god!" Kefka giggled.

"Oh. I'd never even thought about that." He picked up the shirt, gently touching the white sleeve. "What does your cult do?"

"Worship me. Give me their souls. Make me lunch. Do my laundry."

"How illustrious."

Kefka smirked. "Would you rather I have you do the cooking and cleaning?"

The younger man snorted as he buttoned up the shirt. "Not hardly."

"Didn't think so." Kefka closed his makeup case. "They stay at a tower not that far from here."

"You mean that one far off to the north?"

"That's right."

"Seems far to me."

"Well, close enough for them, I suppose." Kefka removed the clasps from his hair and picked up a comb from the surface of the dressing table. Kuja watched as the man carefully combed through his long blond hair.

Kuja pulled on the indigo hued jacket, but didn't bother with the waistcoat. "Have you ever used the Light of Judgment on them before?"

"Uwee, maybe once or twice."

"And they still worship you?"

"Naturally. They gave their souls to me, it's not like they have much of a choice."

"I guess not."

"Here, come here and let me put your makeup back on."

Kuja scratched at the base of his tail as he walked over. "I thought you said that it was nearly time for bed."

"Well, it is. But I don't mind."

Kuja sat on the dressing table's bench as Kefka got up. Watching Kefka, Kuja was somewhat distracted by the older man's hair. It was odd to see it unbound and flowing in a long golden ribbon down Kefka's back. It really was nice hair, Kuja mused.

"There, all set!" Kefka grinned as he stepped back. Kuja gave his reflection a cursory glance and smiled.

"Thank you, Master."

"My pleasure." Kefka picked up one of his hair clasped and rubbed the gems on it with the edge of his cloak. When the clasp was gleaming as if covered in multicolored stars, Kefka pulled his hair back into its usual high ponytail and returned the clasp to its traditional resting place. He did the same with the rest of his hair ornaments, and then put the long blue feather back into place.

"You're very colorful, Master."

"Uwee, I know!" Kefka batted at his ponytail. "Isn't it nice?"

Kuja tilted his head. "Yes, it's nice."

 

They went upstairs. The table was already set, with plates set full of food. Kefka had apparently been anticipating Kuja's awakening for some time. This is what Kuja thought, at least, but when he sat down he found the food was all still warm. Kefka lit the lamp on the table and sat in his seat.

They ate in silence. This had happened before, but usually it was a comfortable silence. This was a decidedly not-comfortable silence, Kuja decided while he was eating his slices of roasted chocobo breast. The only sounds that came from the table were the sounds of eating, of their silverware, and of Kefka rapidly working his way through one of the two bottles of wine sitting in a stone basin next to the table.

Kefka gnawed on his lower lip for a moment. "Kuja?"

He took a gulp of wine, swallowing before looking across the table at the older man. "Yes, Master?"

"Do you..." Kuja poked at his plate with his fork. "Do you think you'll ever go back?"

Something cold crept over him. "Go back?"

"You know, to your world." Kefka looked down at his plate, frowning. "You said you have things you have to do there. So, you're going to go back eventually, aren't you?"

Kuja swallowed. He picked up his wine glass with a shaking hand. "I..." What did Kefka want him to say? "Well, you are right about that. I do still technically have things I'm supposed to do on Gaia..."

Kefka's voice was flat: "For your old Master."

"Well, yes." Kuja shifted on his chair. "That's what I was created for." He forced a laugh. "You're a god, Master. What do you need a little nothing like me for?"

Kefka looked up sharply, and Kuja was stunned by his expression. He looked desolate, Kuja thought.

"You're not a nothing!" Kefka cried. His white fingers curled into a fist and pounded on the table. "You're mine, dammit! You don't need to go back to your old life, you belong here with me!"

Kuja stared at him. He sincerely didn't know how to respond to his Master's outburst.

"Master, I... I..." He pushed away from the table. "I should go to bed."

"No, you will not go to bed!" Kefka said, voice suddenly shrill. "You'll sit there and eat!"

Kuja hesitated, then moved his chair back toward the table. They continued eating, bathed in that uncomfortable silence again. Kefka finished off the first bottle of wine, and he swayed a bit as he bent to retrieve the second bottle. 

Kuja's mind raced while he chewed on a piece of bread. He couldn't stay here forever, could he? As nice as it might be to not be always under Garland's thumb, he had responsibilities on Gaia. He had been created to be the destroyer of that world, to be its Angel of Death. And that was what he was going to be, wasn't it?

He picked up a piece of cheese and nibbled on it, trying to ignore the little discontented noises coming from Kefka. The older man had filled his glass and was emptying it again, mumbling to himself. What would happen to him if he stayed here? What was waiting for him on this dead world? It was possibly a worse prospect than being forced to stay on Terra. Garland had threatened him with that before when he was younger. It was after he had disposed of his replacement... Garland had been furious and had said "Just you wait. When Terra reawakens I'm going to leave you here, and you can disappear with the rest of this worthless world." Kuja didn't really want to disappear. He enjoyed existing, even when it meant getting injured or having to put up with giant rats. This world, this... this...

"Master?"

"Yes?" Kefka didn't look up.

"What is this world called?"

"What?"

"What is the name of this world?" Kuja had never bothered asking before, but now he wanted to know. Kefka slowly looked up, face thoughtful.

"It was called Pondera." A faint smile played on his lips. "Though, this world is no longer in balance, so I don't know if it's really that apt of a name anymore."

"Pondera," Kuja said softly. He bit off another hunk of cheese and chewed. This had been a world of balance before Kefka had destroyed it. But was that even true? Yes, the magical forces had been in balance, but based on what he had been told, the political climate was hardly in balance. That was the nature of a sentient populace, after all. On Gaia it was no different. From what he had read from Gaian history books, that world's history was utterly riddled with constant petty fighting over who got what mountain or stretch of land. 

Only the sleeping souls of Terra knew any real peace, real balance. And that was transient as well, wasn't it? When Gaia became the new Terra, Terra's souls would reawaken and start new lives. Start a new cycle of destruction and deterioration. The Iifa tree would be uprooted and moved to a new world.

But not this world. Not Pondera. This world was already in a worse state than Terra, and wouldn't be worth assimilating. Kefka had made sure of that.

"You don't know what to do, do you?" Kefka said after a few minutes.

"No, I don't," Kuja admitted.

"...me neither."

Kuja looked at him. "What do you mean? Don't you have some great plan?"

"Sure I do, but... You've made me wonder if I might be doing something wrong." Kefka was still, leaning just a bit. Kuja couldn’t remember exactly how much he’d had to drink, but Kefka always seemed to hold his wine quite well, until he drank just a little too much... But no, he hadn’t had that much yet. 

"Don't let my presence sow seeds of doubt in your heart, Master." Kuja sipped his wine and cleared his throat. "I mean... Yours is the ultimate will of this planet."

"This meaningless, pitiful existence," Kefka murmured. "I wish to destroy it all."

Kuja touched the manacle on his right wrist. "Do you really?"

"Yes!"

"But wouldn't that destroy you too? And me?"

Kefka paused, frowning. "Why would it?"

"We're part of everything, aren't we?"

"I am beyond everything!" Kefka said. "I'm a god!"

"But I'm not."

"Then I'll make you a god too!"

Kuja smiled wryly. "It'd be a nice easy way out, wouldn't it? But surely it isn't that easy."

Kefka pouted. "Bother. You think so?"

"Things never really work that easily..." Kuja thought. "You could always just destroy this world and come back to Gaia with me, couldn't you?"

Kefka wrinkled his nose. "Why would I want to do that?"

Kuja tried to hide his blush. "Never mind. It was just a suggestion."

Kefka tilted his head. "There's no point in me going to Gaia to destroy it, if that was your job."

"But that..." Kuja shook his head. "That statement implies that you think I'm going to leave and go back eventually."

Kefka frowned again. "Well, you are, aren't you? You'll leave me eventually, like everything else."

"Master... That's why I said you could come to Gaia with me. Get away from the people who hate you here, and just come to Gaia with me."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"I just can't!" Kefka's voice rose. "It's not that simple! If I left, those bastards would go on running around like they could do whatever they damn well please!"

"But what do you care what they do?" Kuja asked. 

"I..." Kefka trailed off, his frown deepening. "Stop asking questions!" He made a show of emptying his glass and refilling it.

Kuja bit his lip. "Okay."

"You don't understand!" Kefka said. "You don't know what it's like to be.. be... betrayed!"

"I suppose not." Kuja wasn't sure this was true or not. "Someone betrayed you?"

"That stupid bitch!" Kefka snapped. "I swear I should have killed her when I had the chance!"

This was interesting, Kuja thought. "A woman betrayed you?"

"Two of them did, if you want to be technical about it."

"I didn't know you had a thing for women, Master."

"I don't!" Kefka snorted. "They don't really have a thing for me either."

"What happened?"

Kefka gave a heavy, dramatic sigh. "Oh, where to begin?"

"The beginning?"

"Funny." Kefka drummed his nails on the table top. "The first was Celes... I told you about what happened to me, right? How I gained my magic powers?"  
Kuja nodded. "Yes, Master, you did." He had a few times, actually, and the story got quite vigorously embellished the more Kefka had been drinking.

"Good. Well, after me Professor Cid continued working on the magic extraction and transfer process. His first real sucess was with a young woman named Celes. She was the first real Magitek Knight." Kefka scratched his chin. "Now that I think about it, she looked kind of like me. Blonde hair, blue eyes..."

"Not as good looking as you though, I assume."

"Naturally." Kefka smirked. "Well, Celes grew up to be a great general in empire's army. But eventually she..." Kefka's eye ticked. "...turned traitor. Betrayed the empire and went to the side of those goody goody Returners."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be! It's not your fault. And it's not like we were close or anything. She was always something of a little bitch." Kefka giggled. "I always called her the ice queen."

"Frigid?"

"Purile and virginal as a baby... um... well, something really pure."

"I see. She turned you down?"

A flush crept onto Kefka's cheeks. "I wasn't interested in her! Besides, she's nearly half my age."

Kuja chuckled. "She did turn you down."

"Pfft." Kefka continued drumming his nails. "*Anyhow*, she turned traitor and later on she *stabbed* me!"

"That's horrible!"

"I know!" He pounded a fist on the table again. "That bitch! She stabbed me! Me!! I *hate* her!"

Kuja watched him fume for a moment. "And the other woman?"

Kefka pinched his nose. "Oh, gods, I don't even know if I want to go on."

"You've got my interest piqued now, Master. You have to tell me."

"Mmm..." Kefka clucked his tongue. "You've seen the second one before, actually. I showed her to you."

"You did?"

"Do you remember that green haired woman?"

Kuja thought. "From the first time you let me See?"

Kefka nodded. "Yes, her." He grumbled under his breath. "She is half human and half Esper."

"Is that even possible?"

"Apparently so." Kefka snorted. "As it were, that's what she is. An Esper mutt."

"That's a nice way of putting it."

"Quite." Kefka scratched his chin again, looking unhappy. He shifted in his seat. "I controlled her for awhile."

Kuja looked at the manacle on his wrist, and then back to Kefka. "How did you do that?"

"An old relic called a slave crown." He gestured, miming out the shape of a band on his forehead. "It suppressed her will and let me supplant it with my own. While she was wearing she would follow any command given to her."

"Useful."

"Very useful. Put her in Magitek armor and she was an absolute terror." Kefka leaned forward, giving Kuja a look as if he were letting him in on a great conspiracy. Kuja could smell the wine on his breath. "It's funny now that I think about it, but her name was Terra."

Kuja blinked. "That is quite odd."

"Mm-hmm!" Kefka leaned back and sighed heavily. One hand reached back to grab and twist the end of his long blond ponytail. "Emperor Gestahl came upon Terra when she was just a baby. 

Her mother had died and father was missing, and so the Emperor had her raised by the wife of one of his aides. From what I recall, she was a sweet little girl. But she grew up to be too smart for her own good. She wanted to leave."

"So you put the slave crown on her."

Kefka nodded. "It was the only way to keep her under the Empire's control." Another sigh escaped him. "One day, though, the slave crown came off of her while on a mission and she escaped. The Returners found her and took her in, and she was forever lost to the Empire after that."

"She turned you down too, didn't she?"

"Oh, shut up about that already!" Kefka balled up his cloth napkin and tossed it at Kuja. "I was too busy to bother with women, thank you!"

Kuja smiled wryly. "Not too busy for men, I assume?"

There was a snort from the other side of the table. "Don't try to be cute."

Kuja stuck his tongue out. "Well?"

"Hmph." Kefka leaned back in his chair, jaw working. "There were only a few, to be honest. I really was too busy to get heavily involved with anyone."

"That's too bad."

"I guess." Kefka let out a long breath, not quite a sigh but tinged with some level of unhappiness. Kuja wondered what things Kefka had given up in his pursuit of power. "It's not important now, so don't worry about it."

"So you just had little flings?"

"Something like that." The front legs of the chair returned to the floor. "Once in awhile a pretty little thing would come into Vector from out in the country, all naive and stupid about how things work." He smirked. "They were always the best."

"Like me?"

He laughed. "A bit like you, I suppose, but nowhere near as pretty."

Kuja smiled. "You still think I'm pretty, Master?"

"Ask your ass that question, Kuja," he said. Kefka leaned and picked up his glass of wine. He sipped it, making a face. "Bleh, warm already." He giggled faintly.

"You're certainly fond of my ass, at least," Kuja said. He stood, plucking the second bottle of wine from its little stone chest of ice. The second bottle was nearly empty, and Kuja was only on his third glass. Kuja reached out for Kefka's glass, but the older man caught his wrist.

"Master, let me pour some more for you."

Kefka looked up at him through his dark lashes. "I believe I've had plenty enough already."

Kuja swallowed. "No more?"

He gave Kuja's wrist a squeeze. "No more. With as much as I've told you, I've already downed more than I should."

"I guess so." He set the bottle back into the ice chest, and Kefka released his grip on his wrist. The mage's white fingers brushed lightly over the back of Kuja's hand.

"Don't go back to Gaia," he said softly. Kuja blinked.

"What do you mean?"

"Don't go back." His voice had dropped to a whisper, and he was staring at the line of shadow formed where white met pale cream. "Just stay here with me."

"That's easier said than done, Kefka," Kuja murmured. He was not corrected.

"Please." Kefka squeezed his eyes shut, then jerked his head back and looked up at Kuja. "I don't want to be alone anymore!"

Kuja stared at him dumbly.

"Kefka... Please don't make me promise you that."

"Why not??"

Kuja bit his lower lip. "What if something happens? What if you do something that makes me hate you and want to leave?"

If it was possible, Kefka's face paled. He stared mutely up at Kuja, and then turned his face away.

"Everyone else already hates me," he said softly.

"And you hate everyone else, don't you? It's only fair."

"I know, but..."

"It's lonely at the top, eh?"

Kefka nodded. Kuja moved around the table, squatting next to his chair.

"You're very nice to me, Master. Much nicer than anyone else I've known in my life has been to me. And to hear people say you're a bad person..." He shook his head. "I know you've done bad things. But sometimes that's just the only option. I'm not going to try and be nice and say you had a reason for what you did. You just did it, right?"

Kefka nodded.

"And I... I'm okay with that. You're a necessary evil, I guess."

Kefka let out a short laugh. "Such a nice way of putting it."

Kuja smiled at him. "I'll tell you what, Master Kefka. If you never do anything to make me hate you, and never give me any reason to want to leave, then I never will leave. Okay?"

A disturbing glimmer of hope appeared on Kefka's face. "Do you mean it?"

Kuja nodded. "I mean it." He smiled. "I can't really say that I've left someone or something behind on Gaia that I can't live without." In a way, he felt that this was starting to be true. The passing weeks had lessened any guilt he was feeling about abandoning his work on Gaia. This world was horrible and dead, yes, but... here he was wanted. If he never went back to Gaia, Garland would be upset. Very upset, probably, but nothing that wouldn’t pass. He would just create another Genome to take Kuja’s place, if he didn’t use Mikoto. Kuja was starting to realize that he liked being wanted, being needed. Kefka may not have been the best person to be so indebted to, but it still felt better than being under Garland’s thumb.

The blond head of his Master tilted, pale eyes staring at the younger man. "Okay. I'll do my best." He drained the last of his wine, and then burst into a tittering of laughter.

"Good." Kuja took his hand and gave it a squeeze. "Are you a man of your word, Master?"

He laughed again, a bit of pink appearing on his milky white cheeks. "Not hardly!"

"Oh really?"

"Well, not to my enemies, at least." Kefka shrugged. "Why be sincere to people who are probably plotting ways to do you in anyhow?"

"I'm not trying to do you in, Master."

"Mm. I know." Kefka squeezed his hand back. "I... I trusssst you, Kuja."

"You do?"

"Mm-hmm. God's honor." He smiled brightly. "You are my greatest and only confidant."

Kuja dipped into a bow, still holding Kefka's hand. "It is an honor, my leige."

This made the older man giggle anew. Kefka tugged at Kuja's hand, pulling him into his lap.

"We should make a thing of it," he said.

"A thing of what?"

"Mmm, I've decided that I'm going to find that pinhead Edgar and kill him. You can help, if you want. Then I'm going to kill Terra, and I'm going to kill off any others of those blasted Returners that might come back from the dead!"

Kuja smiled. "That sounds like a plan, Master."

"It is!" His other hand slid around and gave Kuja's bottom a squeeze. "It's a brilliant plan."

"Very brilliant."

"The most brilliant!"

"Like a star," Kuja said. Kefka burst into a fresh get of giggles.

"I like how you think, Kuja." He let go of Kuja's hand, moving his fingers up to stroke at the younger man's jaw. "You really are pretty, you know that?"

"You tell me that a lot lately, Master."

"Well, it's true." He sighed. "Sometimes... I almost wish I hadn't destroyed this world, because of you."

"Because of me?"

"Mm-hmm. You're so pretty, and this world is so ugly in its decay... I wish I had a pretty place to set you down in and keep you happy."

"That's very sweet, you know."

Kefka nodded slightly, the tips of his nails tracing a light pattern onto Kuja's cheek. "I mean it, though. You're like some wonderful little bird that flew into this world, where you don't belong at all."

"That's not too far off, I guess."

"A beautiful little canary in a stone cage." Kefka sighed again and shook his head. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry, Master."

"I feel like I should be." He frowned. "It's odd, I never really felt like this before you fluttered along."

"Is it a bad thing?"

"I'm not really sure, to be honest." He shrugged, tilting his head. "You won't hold it against me?"

"Why should I?" Kuja smiled, leaning down to kiss his Master's forehead. His skin was cold beneath Kuja's lips, and when he pulled away he habitually gave them a taste. There was the faint bitterness of Kefka's makeup present.

"You could so easily just leave me," Kefka said.

"I could. But you had no warning that I was going to be coming here, did you?" At Kefka's head shake he smiled. Kefka was weaving back and forth slightly, and Kuja rested his hand on the man’s shoulder to steady him.

"No, I didn't."

"So it's not really your fault." He leaned, kissing the little crease that had formed between Kefka's eyebrows. "You had greater things to be worried about back then, didn't you?"

Kefka hesitated at this question, but nodded. "I think I know what I'll do for you."

"What's that?"

"After I... we... destroy this world, I will find a nice one to take you to."

He smiled crookedly down at him. "Before you destroy that one too?"

Kefka nodded slowly, gaze unfocused. "No. A place where I can take you and make you happy."

"You'd leave me there?"

He nodded again. "You deserve to be happy, Kuja." He giggle. “Uwee, and pretty.”

The younger man leaned lower, pressing light kisses down the curve of Kefka's nose, then the tip. He offered up a soft kiss to Kefka's mouth. "You make me happy, Kefka." He felt the need to prove it to the older man.

"You're just saying that," Kefka murmured against his mouth. Kuja shifted his weight a bit, and Kefka gasped. "Kuja!"

"Kefka," he whispered. "I need you."

Kefka swallowed. "Now?"

"Yes, now."

"You're usually never-aah-frisky after dinner."

He kissed Kefka again, and the old wooden chair squeaked under their weight. "Well, tonight I am frisky. Must be all the wine. Are you going to complain about it?"

"No, not at all!"

 

Kefka teleported them back downstairs, and Kuja quickly found himself again in the bed he had left not that long ago. He straddled Kefka's waist, leaning down over him and continuing the heady kiss that had begun up in the dining room.

"You saved me, didn't you? Kuja gasped when they parted to catch their breath. "At South Figaro."

"M-maybe so!"

Kuja undid the clasps on his indigo coat and peeled the heavy fabric away. "The Light of Judgment, that was for me, wasn't it?"

Kefka bit his lip, staring up at him, and nodded. "Yes, Kuja, it was for you."

He started working at the buttons on his shirt. "I could've gotten away on that dragon, you know."

"I know, I know!" For a moment Kefka looked sheepish, but the look disappeared when Kuja freed himself from his shirt and leaned down to kiss him again. "Mm, I had to, though!"

"Had to?"

"Yes!" He sat up roughly, pushing Kuja onto his back. "I had to! You didn't see what was behind you!"

Kuja blinked, staring up at Kefka with wide blue-green eyes. "What do you mean?"

He leaned down, kissing at Kuja's collarbone. "Another Esper."

"What?"

Kefka pushed himself back up, staring "That stupid king, Edgar... he was summoning another Esper to fight you."

Kuja's brow wrinkled. "You don't think I could've handled myself?"

"I didn't want to take that chance!" He weaved a bit, and when Kuja reached up to touch his cheek he found Kefka’s skin to be surprisingly hot beneath his fingers.

“Master Kefka...”

If Kuja fingers had not undone some of the clasps himself, he would have sworn Kefka had simply teleported their clothing away. It seemed to take no time at all for them both to be free of their clothing, and Kuja quickly found himself pressed back into the dark red sheets. He was on his back, legs spread wide by the pale hands gripping on his knees. Kefka leaned over him, cock slicked with oil and pressing against Kuja’s entrance.

“You’re so pretty,” Kefka breathed. He leaned down, and Kuja noticed how the drunken pink flush had spread from his face and down his chest. Kuja reached up and tweaked at the older man’s perky pink nipples. “Ooh, uwee! I have one last present for you, my little Esper!”

“Mm, and what’s that?”

Kefka leaned down and kissed him, sucking at his lower lip as he pulled away. His kisses tasted like wine, but Kuja wasn’t really bothered by that. “Uwee, you have to guess!”

“Oh, just give it to me, Master!”

Kefka kissed him again, hands squeezing his knees. “Mmm, no, guess!”

Kuja bit his lip. He could feel the head of Kefka’s cock pressed very slightly against his hole. “Is it a big present?”

“I’ve never heard any complaints,” Kefka said with a giggle. Kuja licked his lip.

“Will it make me feel good, Master?”

“Very good, I believe.” Kefka leaned in again, kissing his lower lip. “You just get one guess, my Esper.”

“Mm, it is your cock, Master?”

“Oh, you’re such a smart thing!” He giggled. “Uwee, yes, your last present is your birthday fuck!”

Kuja smiled, tail thumping against the bed. “I’ve been waiting for this, Master Kefka.”

The blond paused, weaving a bit. “No, I don’t want you to call me Master anymore. Not in bed at least. Just Kefka is fine!”

“Really, Master?”

Kefka nodded. “Really, my pretty little one.”

“Okay.” Kuja smiled again. “I want my birthday fuck now, Kefka.”

“Glad to give you it, Kuja.”

He pushed in slowly. The stretching felt similar to the first time, and he cried out in a little moan.

“Oh, yes, nice and slow, Kefka! I want to feel you going in!”

“Uwee...” The god did as he was asked, pushing his length in slowly until he was buried inside Kuja’s ass. “Pretty Esper, uwee...”

“Aahh...” Kuja’s tail twitched from where it was concealed in the covers. “This is...ahh....the best present, Mas--Kefka.”

“Uwee, you think so?”

Kuja nodded. Kefka slid out slowly, then back in, and Kuja groaned.

“Better than the clothes?”

“Aah, yes!”

Another slow, stretching thrust. “Better than the relic?”

“Yes!”

Kefka cocked his head. “Even better than dinner?”

“Yes, Kefka, it’s really the best!”

The thin blond brows arched upwards as he slid in again. “And why is that?”

Kuja let out heavy breath, back arching just a bit. “Because...nng... because it’s just from you, Kefka.”

“Uwee, that’s sweet!” Kefka reached between them and gave Kuja’s cock a tug.

“Aahh!” Kuja’s hips twitched.

“Mm, you still want it nice and slow, my sweet?”

Kuja nodded vigorously.

“Or do you want me to pound your brain out?”

Kuja nodded again, and Kefka giggled. “Well, which is it?”

“I want you....mmm... I want you to fuck my brains out all night.”

“There’s no day or night in this room, you know,” Kefka said, voice dropping to an uneven purr.

“Then fuck me until you can’t anymore!”

Kefka smiled toothily down at him. “We may be up for a while then, Kuja.”

The violet haired man smiled back up at the man who was supposed to have been his captor. “I’m fine with that, Kefka.”

“Uwee hee, then so be it!”


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

“Master Kefka?”  
“Uwee, yes, what is it?”  
“Well, what are you doing?” Kuja had come up from the library to find Kefka in the observatory crouching in front of a large piece of parchment. It had been two weeks since his birthday. As the days had passed, Kuja had found himself spending less and less time in the library and more time up in the observatory watching Kefka. The mad god spent his days now pacing a nearly endless circuit around the observatory.  
“Working.”  
“I guessed that much.” He made his way over to where his Master was. “What are you working on?”  
“A map, of sorts,” Kefka said. Kuja looked at the parchment. It was indeed a map, or at least a rough approximation of the shape of the continents visible from Kefka’s tower. He had marked out various towns and cities and other landmarks.  
“What are the X’s?” They were bright red and dappled along the map.  
“People I need to kill,” Kefka said.  
“I thought you needed to kill everyone.”  
“Uwee, while this is true, these are special people that need killing.”  
Kuja considered the spread of the red marks on the parchment. He noticed one on South Figaro. “The Returners?”  
“That’s right.” Kefka gave a short nod, and then rested the quill he was using onto a piece of blotting paper. “The ones I’ve been able to find, at least.”  
“How many were there?”  
“Quite a few...” Kefka shook his head. “If I nip a few of their little buds now, then I probably won’t have to worry about them getting back together and trying anything.”  
“Do you want me to kill any of them for you?”  
Kefka smiled thinly. “While I appreciate the offer, this is something I’d rather take care of myself.”  
“I understand.” And he did. Sometimes there were just tasks you didn’t want to put into the hands of others. It wasn’t really that Kefka didn’t trust him with the Returners, he just... wanted to be the one to kill them himself. If they had caused him so much trouble in the past, Kuja couldn’t really blame him for those feelings.  
“You can come along and watch, if you want,” Kefka said. He got to his feet, brushing off the knees of his dark green trousers.  
“You wouldn’t mind me tagging along?”  
Kefka smiled and shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. Mm, it might be fun to have someone cheering me on.”  
Kuja laughed. “I guess I could do that much for you.”  
“Excellent!” The older man looked down at the parchment. “Hmm...”  
“Are you going to start today?”  
“I might.” He tilted his head. “But where to begin...”  
Kuja pointed to the tall tower scribbled in black in with two little green happy faces next to it. “That’s us, right?”  
“Mm-hmm.”  
“Well...” Kuja studied the map. “None of them are in Albrook?”  
“Unfortunately, no.” Kefka stuck his tongue out. “Stupid fucking Albrook!”  
“What about Tzen?”  
“I’m not sure about Tzen, actually,” he said, leaning over the map. The tip of his ponytail swung like a pendulum. “I thought I saw a familiar face once or twice, but... who’s to say?” He shrugged. “Either way, there’s no one of merit there now.”  
“Hmm. And King Edgar is in South Figaro...”  
“Or thereabouts. He’s been skulking around the area, but that’s where he’s staying lately.” Kefka smirked. “Can’t seem to find his precious little castle.”  
“Why not kill him first?”  
“I’d rather savor that one...” Kefka drummed his nails on his chin. “No, not Edgar.”  
“Then who?”  
“I’m not sure...” Kefka clucked his tongue. “Any opposition to killing children and the elderly?”  
Kuja blinked. “What do you mean?”  
“Some of my enemies, they’re... y’know.” He gestured at the map.  
“You were fighting with a little kid?”  
“Oh, don’t say it like that! It happens!” He shook his head. “You don’t understand, she’s an evil little kid!”  
“An evil little kid. What kind of evil?”  
Kefka suppressed a shudder. “A pictomancer!”  
“A picto...what?”  
“She draws her enemies and uses the image to control their souls!” Kefka’s pale eyes widened at some unknown memory. “She’s very dangerous!” He shivered again. “And an annoying brat!”  
Surely he was exaggerating. “And the old man?”  
“Her grandfather, actually. He’s something of a blue mage, from what I’ve heard. Never really seen the old man do anything other than fall over like he’s about to fucking die, though.”  
“So, why kill them off instead of a real troublemaker like Edgar or that Terra girl?”  
Kefka scowled. “They find their strength in numbers. If I can thin out their numbers now, then they won’t be as strong later. And I might as well start with the easiest of the herd to thin out.”  
“I see.” Kuja squinted at the map. “So, where are the little girl and the old man?”  
“The old man is moping around my cult’s tower, actually,” Kefka said. “And the little girl recently showed up in Jidoor. The rich old bastard who lives in town there has a thing for art.” Kefka’s eyes lit up. “I think we should deal with the little girl first!”  
Kuja watched his Master pace around and write a few things down on a fresh piece of parchment. He wondered what exactly Kefka would do to the little girl and the old man. He hadn’t really seen Kefka use any attack magic beyond basic spells. Even while teaching Kuja how to perform more powerful magic like Thundaga and Flare he had never actually cast the spells himself. Kuja was more than happy to follow his Master along out into the cold of winter, just to find out what the odd man would do.

The next day they went to Jidoor. It was far to the west of Kefka’s tower, and north of the opera house that Kuja still secretly wished to go to. It was a pretty little town, in surprisingly good condition with the state of the world considered. Kefka had called it an “artsy fartsy” town, which had amused Kuja, but the description wasn’t too far off. The town had had the Light of Judgment hit it a few times, but the residents had taken pains to restore everything to its previous glory. This fact alone was enough to make Kefka grumble as the materialized on the outskirts of town.   
“Isn’t your appearance in town going to cause a panic?” Kuja asked lowly. It was mid-day. The sun was somewhere high overhead, lost in the clouds. There was a thick layer of snow on the ground, and their boots crunched through it as they headed through the streets.   
“I wish,” Kefka said lowly. “Out here they probably don’t even know what I look like.”   
Kuja followed at Kefka’s side, listening as he pointed out various landmarks. As Kefka had said, the townsfolk barely gave their unwanted god a second glance as he led the way. Kuja thought Kefka was at least worth the second glance with the way the colors of his clothing clashed. But no matter.  
“And that’s the auction house,” Kefka said, pausing at an intersection. “You can buy all sorts of interesting things there, if you show up at the right time...” A smile played on his lips. “In fact, after I destroyed the world, certain things of value became quite easy and cheap to obtain there.”  
“Such as?”  
Kefka pointed to the silver manacle on Kuja’s wrist. “I bought that there?”  
“Really?”  
“Mm-hmm.” Kefka continued, and they made their way up a hill. An enormous mansion came into view, and Kuja paused to take it all in. It was easily larger than any of the other mansions he had seen while on Pondera. Even the richer parts of Alexandria did not boast such an excessive display of wealth. Kefka looked up at it with a sneer. “This is Owzer’s mansion. Ugly, isn’t it?”  
“I thought it to be somewhat picturesque, really...”  
Kefka sighed. “You always have been the romantic, haven’t you?”  
Kuja smiled faintly. “I can appreciate beauty in a dead world, Master. Can’t you?”  
A short laugh escaped Kefka before he continued up the hill. “Only in you, my little Esper.”  
They went to the front door of the mansion. Kefka paused for a moment at the front door, scratching his chin.  
“Hold onto my cloak when we get in there, I don’t need you getting hurt.”  
“Master?”  
He waved the hand that had been scratching his chin. “Don’t worry about it, I just don’t need you getting hurt.”  
“Oh. Okay.” Kuja reached, grabbing onto the back of Kefka’s dark red cloak as the older man opened the front door without knocking. “Unlocked doors? How trusting.”  
“Not like locking them would keep out the bad things, now would it?” Kefka smirked and led the way into the mansion.   
Inside it was dark, except for a few lamps lighting the far wall. Next to the lamps a stairway led up into the dark.  
“Rather dismal place for an art freak, isn’t it?” Kefka made his way over to the lamps. As he set a foot on the steps a chill rushed past them, and an unearthly voice sounded from the darkness.  
“None shall pass this point,” the voice rasped.  
“Oh, bugger off, you stupid ghoul!” Kefka hissed. For a moment it seemed they would be denied passage, but then the chill subsided. Kefka hopped up the stairs, taking them two at a time.  
“What was that?” Kuja wondered.  
“Who knows?” Kefka said, shrugging his narrow shoulders. “There are all sorts of foul spirits running about these days.”  
The second floor looked like a makeshift art gallery. The walls were crammed with paintings. Pictures of flowers and fruit were next to paintings of women. Kuja was looking curiously at a painting of an empty wooden chair, when he heard Kefka grumble next to him. His Master was glaring at a painting of an old man.  
“Well, that’s an ugly painting,” Kuja said.  
“Hmph! He was an ugly and useless person!”  
“Who is it?”  
“Emperor Gestahl,” Kefka said, voice dropping to a growl for a moment. Then he broke into a giggle and flipped off the painting. “No matter, I kicked his useless old self off the Floating Continent! Uwee hee hee!”  
“Master, are you sure you should make so much noise? Someone might hear you!”  
“Uwee, what do I care if someone hears me?” Kefka looked around. “In fact, it might make things easier if someone would come tell us where that blasted brat is!”  
Kuja shrugged and continued to follow Kefka as he wandered around the mansion. Eventually they ended up on the third floor. A lone door was at the end of the hall, and they could hear two voices on the other side.  
“Oh, simply marvelous!” That was the voice of a man.  
“I know it is, I painted it!” This was chimed by the voice of a girl. Kefka narrowed his eyes at the door.  
“Bingo.” He opened the door without another word. Kuja was quick to follow him, being careful not to lose the grip he had on Kefka’s cloak.  
They stepped into a large study. It was full of shelves of books and statuettes, but the back part of the room was dominated by a large canvas with a ladder leaning against it. The canvas was mostly still white, with a bit of greenery painted on the bottom. On the ground in front of the canvas stood a fat man with graying hair. The ladder was occupied by a wisp of a little girl who looked to be about ten or eleven.  
“This place is too damn big, do you know that?” Kefka shouted as he stalked across the study. The fat man turned to look at the newcomers.  
“Who are you? Who let you in here?”  
“Why, Owzer, such manners!” Kefka sneered at the fat man, then looked to the little girl on the ladder. She was small, with messy pale blonde hair tucked into a violet paisley scarf. She waved her paintbrush at the fat man.  
“Hey, pops, I told you I didn’t need to get interrupted while working on this!” She turned her dark eyes on Kefka and Kuja. “What the--!!” Her grip slipped on the ladder, and she jumped down. “Holy hell, what are you doing here, you old fart??”  
“Old fart?” Kefka snorted at the girl. “You little brat!”  
“Relm, do you know these men?” Owzer looked from Kefka to Kuja, his gaze lingering on the second.  
“The freak with the tail, no, but *that*-” she pointed the paint brush at Kefka, and Kuja thought he saw his Master suppress the urge to jump out of its line, “-is Kefka!”  
“Oh, really?” Owzer looked at him. “I expected him to be taller, you know.”  
“Big things come in small packages,” Kefka smirked.  
“Yeah, like me!” Relm looked at Kuja, then turned to the canvas. With unbelievable speed the little girl painted up a little model of Kuja. While Kuja was considering this, the little painted version of himself moved.  
“What the-” Kuja yelped as the painting of himself threw a bolt of Thunder at him.  
“Is that the best you can do? Geez!” Relm glared at the painting. “How pathetic!”  
“Now now, no one likes to fight against themselves!” Kefka laughed wickedly, and the canvas burst into flames.  
“Hey, be careful!”  
Kefka ignored Owzer’s protests. “Uwee hee hee hee! I’d say it was nice knowing you, you little brat, but I’d be lying!” Kefka held out his hand. “Have fun in hell, you little brat!”  
“Why you--” Relm started for Kefka, brandishing her paintbrush, but after two steps she froze in place.  
Kuja’s finger’s tightened their grip on Kefka’s cloak. A glow of light appeared around Relm. Kuja looked to Kefka, saw his profile lit up by the horrible light, and looked back to the little girl. He was dimly aware of Kefka’s lips moving as the light exploded, turning blue and then red and expanding to fill the entire room. He had to squeeze his eyes shut against the brightness, and felt the magic tingle harmlessly along his skin.  
After a minute, he felt Kefka’s nails touch the back of the hand that was gripping his cloak. “It’s okay, Kuja, I’m done now.”  
Kuja blinked his eyes open. The study was as it had been before, looking generally unharmed. The only difference now was the two bodies on the floor. Both had their eyes open. Owzer looked surprised. Relm looked furious. Kefka snorted.  
“How pathetic.”  
Kuja looked at the dead for a moment, then turned his attention to Kefka. “Master, what was that?”  
“What was what?” Kefka tugged his cloak free and went over to Relm. He pulled the paintbrush from the girl’s stiff fingers and snapped it in half.  
“That magic you used. I’ve never seen anything like it.”  
“That? Oh.” Kefka started back to him, smiling and offering a hand. Kuja took it, and the scenery shifted around them. They were back in the tower, in the observatory. “That was Ultima.”  
“How beautifully deadly,” Kuja murmured. Kefka walked over to the parchment, looking down at it. Kuja stood next to him, letting his gaze follow Kefka’s.  
He was staring at the X marked over the town of Jidoor. The ink of the X had changed color, and was black now. Kefka smiled.  
“Could you teach me it?” Kuja whispered. Kefka blinked, looking at him.  
“I suppose I could.” He hummed. “It’ll take a lot of work, though, it’s a very difficult spell.”  
Kuja smiled back. “I’m willing to work on it with you.”

That afternoon Kuja got to see Kefka's cult firsthand. There were dozens of them at the foot of the tower, walking in a slow circle and mumbling something.  
"They look like animated dolls," Kuja murmured as he watched. Kefka shrugged.  
"I guess that's what happens when you give up your soul."  
The Cult of Kefka was dressed in white and green robes with green hoods that concealed their faces. It was because of this uniform that Kuja noticed an old man in their number. He was wearing a bright red cloak. The old man's hair was nearly gone on his head, except for a tuft on a back and his massive white eyebrows and scraggly beard.  
"A wolf amongst the sheep?" Kuja wondered allowed. Kefka blinked and looked up at him.  
"What?"  
"The old man, what's he doing here?"  
"The old man," Kefka said, "is our next target."  
"Oh." Kuja blinked. "Wait, him? He looks like a strong wind will blow him over."  
"So do you sometimes."  
Kuja rolled his eyes and looked around. Several men were seated at the base of the tower. One was pacing back and forth, occassionally jumping up and making a futile reach for the bottom of a exterior walkway that circled the tower high above his head.  
"Thieves," Kefka said, noting Kuja's gaze. "They're here with dreams of stealing my treasure."  
"You have treasure here?"  
Kefka cocked his head. "Well, sort of. Mainly excess things that I had no place to keep at my tower."  
"Oh." Kuja wasn't entirely aware of the fact that Kefka had treasures stowed away in his tower, but he wasn't going to argue about the fact. He had a tendency to procure things seemingly from nowhere, so it was possible he was getting them from some storeroom crammed between the monsters and the library.  
"You don't run them off? Or your cult doesn't?"  
"What do I care?" Kefka snorted, turning his attention back to the cultists marching in their endless circle.  
"But it's your stuff..."  
"Most of it was stolen from someone who stole it from someone who stole it from someone else anyways. That's how all the really good old relics work."  
Kuja smiled. "Does that make you a petty thief?"  
The older man considered this. "Nope. I'm the god here, so technically everything should belong to me anyways."  
"True." Kuja watched the old man. His watery eyes were dull, but Kuja knew well enough from looking at soulless Genomes to know that the man hadn't yet given his soul up to Kefka. "What happens to the souls of people who surrender them?"  
He shrugged. "Oh, I don't know. I think I feed them to the skull dragon."  
"How pleasant."  
"Isn't it though?" Kefka cracked his knuckles, glaring at the old man as he passed them by in the line. "Strago Magus. That's his name."  
"How do you know all this information about your enemies, anyways?"  
"I'm a god," Kefka said. "I should know this stuff. Besides, I had a lot of free time before you showed up."  
"Heavens me, forgive my ass for taking up too much of your spare time."  
Kefka cracked a smile and glanced back at Kuja. "It's time well spent." He went back to watching the fanatics walk.  
"So, what are you going to do to the old man? Blow him up like his granddaughter?"  
"That would be the easiest way," Kefka conceded. "But not necessarily the most fun."  
"Oh really?"  
"Mm-hmm. That, and I blow him up, I might accidentally blow up the rest of them, and then who will do my laundry?"  
"That's a good point." Kuja watched. The old man was coming into view again. "So, Master, what's your brilliant idea?"  
"Oh, I don't have one," Kefka said. "I was hoping you'd think of something."  
"Master!"  
He giggled. "Just kidding." Kefka reached under his cloak and pulled out a strange weapon. It was a flail, Kuja realized after seeing the heavy spiked ball dangle from its chain.  
"Master, I didn't know you used a weapon." More than that, Kuja wondered where Kefka kept that thing without stabbing himself.  
"I don't usually," Kefka admitted. He touched the points on the morning star with his nails, grinning. "But I do admit, it can be fun to be violent now and then."  
Kuja looked from the flail to the old man and back. "You're not going to hit him with that, are you? Look at him, he's like... skin and bones and an ugly cloak! If you hit him with that thing you'll bash his skull in!"  
Kefka gave him a 'duh' look. "That was the general idea, my dear."  
"I'd almost rather you used Ultima on the whole lot of them."  
"Uwee, vicious, aren't we?" Kefka considered the flail in his hands. "Oh, but it's been a long time since I've gotten to be physically violent!" He gave Kuja a disturbing, pleading look. "Please?"  
"Oh, don't look at me like that, it's creepy."  
Kefka grinned. "It's supposed to be."  
"Very funny." Kuja looked from the cultists and then to their tower. Whereas Kefka's tower stabbed through the clouds and disappeared into the heavens, this tower was much shorter and squatter. Its top brushed the bottom of the clouds but did not dare to climb to the heights of the gods.  
"Well, what would you have me do, then?"  
"Why not try being--"  
"Stop telling me to be creative!" Kefka snapped. He pointed the handle of the flail at Kuja. "I don't have to be creative, I'll have you know! I should just blow the whole lot of them up! That'd show them for worshipping me!"  
"I'm sorry, Master, I should stop questioning you."  
"That's right!" Kefka's pale eyes drifted down Kuja's front, stopping at the collar of his coat. "Say, I've got an idea. Did you bring your birthday present with you?"  
"You mean the dragon whistle?"  
Kefka nodded. "Uwee, that's right."  
"Yes, I have it with me." Kuja unsnapped the top button of his coat and reached it, pulling out the green dragon shaped relic.  
"Give it a blow, I've got a great idea!" Kefka giggled.  
"Is it better than bashing the old man's head in?"  
Kefka sighed heavily, looking at the flail. "Nothing's better than that."  
"If you say so."   
Kuja looked around. The landscape around this tower was nearly as desolate as that around Kefka's tower. Kefka had told him that this place was once a river called the Serpent Trench. But after Kefka's 'redecorating' the trench was a thin curving strip of land rising from the surrounding seas. The ground was littered with the bones and dessicated bodies of aquatic life, and there was a faint lingering stench of rot. Why Kefka's cult would have chosen to build here was beyond the young man.  
"Well?"  
Kuja looked again to his Master, and then brought the dragon charm to his lips. He blew, knowing that it would make no sound. Kefka smiled and looked up at the tower.  
"Master, who did I just summon for you?"  
"Uwee hee hee... you'll see!" Kefka cackled. "From the very heights of heaven's holy hearths, one of the great legendary beasts that have been released onto the land!"  
There was a roar high over their heads.  
"Blow the whistle again, I think he's shy!" Kefka giggled, rubbing his palms together. Kuja did as he was told. There was another roar, and then, about a third of the way up the tower, a long silvery snout appeared. A murmur of alarm came from the thieves. They were looking up too.  
"The Holy Dragon," Kuja whispered.  
The beast freed itself from the tower, launching its long shimmering body into the air from its towerside perch. Unlike the plains dragon that had unwittingly rescued him in South Figaro, this creature was truly beautiful. Its body seemed cast from metal: its scales were a shiny silvery blue, and the webbing of its wings was blue and veinous. The dragon's body gleamed in the dim sunlight.  
Kuja watched the dragon as it slowly circled the girth of the tower. "What is it going to do?" He didn't really know how to command such a fearsome beast, even with the dragon charm.  
"Just watch," Kefka said, grinning.  
The dragon roared, swooping lower. The thieves were already scattering, screaming and running away as fast as their legs could carry them. Kuja could see the beakish snout of the dragon turn to consider the thieves, but then choose to ignore them as they moved further and further from the base of the tower. The dragon was surveying the line of cultists now.  
"What is he, a bouncer?" Kuja wondered allowed. Kefka giggled.  
"Yes, uwee, something like that. The great holy beast serves its god, and it does not allow the presence of those that the god doesn't want present."  
"Did you brainwash it or something?"  
He shrugged. "Just reinstructed it, really."  
"That's one way of putting it."  
Kefka raised a finger to his lips. "Shh, just watch!"  
The Holy dragon was circling low over the line of fanatics now. Its pale blue eyes surveyed and studied each of the hooded cult members. It gave a noticable jerk of its snout as it noticed the red clad figure amongst the train of green and white.  
"Good-bye, old man!" Kefka called from where they watched. "Burn in hell with that brat grand-daughter of yours!"  
The dragon gave an irritated sounding screech and dove into the line. The cultists ignored the beast even as it knocked a few aside to reach its goal. The old man, Strago, did not struggle as the Holy dragon's great silvery claws closed around him and lifted him off the ground.  
Kuja watched the dragon curiously as it lifted back into the air. It moved with such grace, so little effort, such control... He watched, with a certain feeling of detachment, as the dragon transferred the old man into its jaws. There was a faint cry as the man came back to his senses, but it ended as the dragon hurled him against the stone wall of the tower.  
"And you didn't want me to bash his head in!" Kefka laughed giddily. Kuja snorted faintly. "Oh well, wouldn't need to get his blood on my clothes anyways."  
"That's one way of putting it."  
The dragon finished playing with its victim, and then swallowed the body of the old man with a noisy gulp. It looked around, scratching the spines on its back against the tower. Then it belched, and looked in Kefka's direction. The dragon's cold eyes met the even colder stare of the mad god, and the creature looked away. It surveyed the parade of fanatics again, and then lifted off into the air. After circling the tower once more, it returned to its perch up within the tower walls.  
"Was that creative enough for you?" Kefka looked over at Kuja, and then made his way over to the younger man with mincing steps.  
"I guess so... though that wasn't really your doing, was it?"  
"Oh, nothing pleases you, does it?" Kefka laughed, swatting Kuja's bottom.  
"Plenty pleases me, Master," Kuja said, looking down at him. "Are you sure you won't let me kill one of them?"  
Kefka gave a dramatic sigh. "We've had a busy day, why not hold off discussing more business until tomorrow?"  
"What shall we discuss until then?"  
"Oh, I don't know. How about whether or not you can do the splits?"  
"The splits?"  
"Sure, the splits. I've always wanted to meet a man who could do the splits."  
"You're very weird, Master, you do know that, right?"  
"Of course I do!" Kefka grinned up at him. "Not that there's anything wrong with that."  
"No, there's not really anything wrong with that."


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

The next day they did not go out killing. They sat up in the observatory, and Kefka explained various ferocious beasts that could be found on Pondera, and how much fun it was to sic them on the populace.  
The afternoon was filled with sex and magic. (Though Kefka always protested that there was a bit of both in each.) After a romp in the library of all places, Kefka set about writing out the incantation for Ultima. It was quite long, and a few times Kefka stopped and scratched out half of what he had written.  
"You do know the spell, don't you?" Kuja was compelled to ask this after the fourth time Kefka had scratched out a few lines.  
"Oh, I do, it's just..." He gestured with the quill in his right hand. "Once you stop thinking about the incantations, when they've really just become a part of you, then it can become hard to start thinking about them again. Especially the really hard ones." Kefka dipped the quill back into the little pot of black ink sitting on the floor next to him. Kuja wasn't sure why Kefka refused to sit at the desk that was in the library. He'd had no trouble bending Kuja over it and fucking him stupid, but actually working at the desk was another matter entirely.  
"I'm not in a rush," Kuja murmured. Kefka nodded, staring at the paper. He jotted down a few more words, then stopped again.  
"This is a very powerful spell, Kuja. You saw some of its power in Jidoor, but... not the whole thing, really."  
"There's more than that?"  
Kefka nodded. "It was suggested by the ancient magicians that the power of Ultima was in part directed by the power and emotions of the person casting it. The spell must be mastered, must be harnessed. If the caster doesn't have complete control over the magic they're using..."  
"It can be very dangerous, I know."  
"I know that you know," Kefka said, and sighed. He continued writing. "Ultima is not tied to any particular element. That's part of why it's so powerful--it's nearly impossible to do anything to block it or absorb its damage." He smiled grimly. "It overwhelms all normal magical resistance."  
"Can't be reflected?"  
"Not at all!" Kefka giggled, dipping the quill back into the ink pot. Kuja digested these facts. An ultra-powerful spell that could lay waste to one's enemies... No wonder the incantation for it was so difficult. "Where did you learn Ultima from?"  
"Hmm." Kefka's brow wrinkled. "One of the Espers I received power from... was one of the most powerful. The other Espers were so worried about the destruction that it could cause that they sealed it away in the form of a sword."  
"And who told you this?"  
Kefka's eyes flashed. "The Esper did." He cleared his throat. "When Gestahl invaded the Esper world, his men broke into the shrine where the Esper was kept. They thought it to be just a sword, but Professor Cid later cracked its secrets." Kefka's eyes lit up again. "One of the most powerful Espers of the old times, its powers weakened slightly by the corroding effects of time... The one who would bring about the end of times... Ragnarok."  
"What happened to the Esper?"  
He shrugged minutely, eyes seeming to look at something that wasn't there. "It died after Cid drained it. Turned into a plain old boring hunk of magicite. Utterly worthless since no one could figure out what to do with it. Cid was visiting some friends in Narshe and gave the rock to someone in town and told them some fairy tale about how it was a marvelous ancient stone."  
"You said Cid couldn't figure out how to use the magicite. But that Edgar fellow, he was summoning an Esper, so was he...?"  
"Hell, I don't know where they got the Espers." Kefka frowned. "I know they stole some magicite from the Magitek Research Facility in Vector, but what happened after that is beyond me."  
"Oh." Kuja considered all that Kefka had said. "Do the Espers you got transfusions from talk to you?"  
Kefka slouched over the parchment. "You're just full of questions today, aren't you?"  
"I was just curious, I'm sorry."  
Kefka looked up. "For lack of a better way to put it, yes, they talk to me." He rapped his forehead with his bony knuckles. "Or rather, they used to. I've gotten quite good at ignoring them and all the other voices in my head."  
"I see." Kuja watched as Kefka crumpled up the piece of parchment he had been writing on. "What's wrong?"  
"I just can't seem to remember the words probably anymore."  
Kuja leaned down and wrapped his arms around his Master's thin shoulders. "It's alright. There's no rush on it, is there?"  
"I suppose not."  
Kefka unrolled a new piece of parchment. As he re-inked a few words onto the paper, Kuja considered the light of Ultima that he had seen earlier.  
"Master?"  
"Hmm?"  
"You said that you couldn't use Ultima on Strago because you'd cause too many casualties. But it seemed much smaller when you used it in Jidoor."  
Kefka sighed. "It's all a matter of control, Kuja. Control. Lose that, and you lose everything." He dropped the quill onto the paper and got to his feet.  
"Master?"  
Kefka looked down at him, an unfamiliar shadow of fatigue below his eyes. "I'm going to be up at the observatory. I think Maranda needs to get blown up again."  
"Not Albrook?"  
Kefka turned and walked slowly toward the door to the stairs.  
"No, not Albrook."

Two weeks passed. Kuja had to admit that he was worried about his Master. Kefka was quiet, almost brooding as he stared out from the observatory. It wasn't that he wasn't talking to Kuja, it was just that something was off with the man. Kefka continued working on the Ultima spell with Kuja, and the young sorcerer had finally memorized the incantation.  
He had it learned, but Kefka had forbidden him to use it. He had said that Kuja wasn't ready yet, and that if he used it he might not be able to control it.  
"I don't want you accidentally killing yourself," Kefka had said. Kuja understood that, and was touched by the sentiment, but he still wondered what was wrong with Kefka.  
He was afraid to ask, though, and so continued wondering.  
It was mid-Winter, according to the calendar Kefka had tacked to the wall of his dressing room. The snow around the tower was several feet thick now. It retained a pristine white color--no one dared venture near the tower to disturb it, not even monsters. Although he didn't like it, Kuja had gotten used to the cold. Genomes had been made with the ability to adapt.  
Kuja watched Kefka. The older man was pacing very slowly in front of the northern windows. He wondered what was going on in Kefka's head, if anything at all. These two weeks of doing nothing were starting to wear on Kuja's nerves. He wanted to go out and do something. Even tromping around in the sewers talking to giant purple rats was looking like a better pastime at the moment.  
"Master?"  
"Hmm?" Kefka turned his head to look at Kuja over his shoulder. The long blue feather in his hair was drooping. Kuja came over to him, pulling the feather free.  
"I'm worried, Master. Why aren't we doing anything?"  
"It's too cold to do anything," Kefka said. Kuja tucked the feather carefully back into the tight weave of Kefka's blond hair.  
"That's a lame excuse."  
"It's not an excuse," Kefka said in a curt tone. Kuja frowned.  
"Did I do something wrong?"  
Kefka blinked, turning again and looking up at him. "What do you mean?"  
"You just... seem like you're mad at me."  
"I'm not mad!" The smile that came to Kefka's lips was fake, Kuja had been around him long enough to know that much. Two months was time enough to learn quite a bit about a man.  
"Then what is it?"  
"I just... have a lot on my mind." Kefka turned deliberately on his boot heel, pale eyes focusing on the empty blue sky that surrounded them.  
"You can share it with me, Master." Kuja touched his shoulder lightly. He was surprised by how loose his body was. "Kefka?"  
"Kuja... I wish I could share with you."  
"Why can't you?" Kuja squeezed his shoulder. "Weren't you going to take me with you? Make me part of your grand empire?"  
Another smile played on Kefka's lips, this one more sincere. "I am, Kuja. Don't worry about it."  
"I can't help but worry. We've spent the last two weeks doing nothing but practicing Ultima and looking out the windows!"  
"That's all I used to do before you came," Kefka said. He chuckled. "I didn't anticipate having to keep you entertained." He reached up, covering Kuja's hand with his own. "And I know sex can keep you occupied for only so long."  
"Very funny, Master."  
"I try..." Kefka patted Kuja's hand, then pulled it away. "Sometimes I just get the feeling that--" He stopped, blinking and looking to the window. He leaned forward until the tip of his nose touched the glass.  
"Master? Kefka, what is it?"  
"It's her," Kefka said, voice barely more than a hiss. His hand was still gripping Kuja's and now it tightened until the younger man let out a little cry of pain.  
"Who?"  
"Celes," Kefka said, eye twitching.  
"The woman who stabbed you?"  
"No, the other one!"  
Kuja winced, and Kefka sighed.  
"I'm sorry. Yes, that one."  
"Where is she?"  
Kefka pointed at the glass. "Heading toward Tzen."  
"What are you going to do, Master?" Kuja asked, his voice barely more than a whisper. Kefka grinned widely, turning his head to look at the orb of light that still occupied the center of the observatory.  
"I'm going to blow her the fuck up, that's what!" He let out a delighted giggle. He pulled away from Kuja and hopped over to the orb.  
"That seems rather anticlimactic, Master."  
Kefka raised his hands to the orb and energy began to pass between the two. "Oh, I'm not really going to blow *her* up. I'm going to give that little bitch nowhere to run! Uwee hee hee!"  
Kuja moved away from the northern windows. He had half a mind to run out of the room entirely, but steeled himself and stayed. He watched as the beam of light appeared and shot out from the orb. Or was it coming from Kefka? Kuja wasn't really sure.  
When the deed was done Kefka's cheeks were flushed. He panted softly as he darted back over to the northern windows.  
"Any luck?"  
"Oh, hell, she's already gone into the town!" Kefka thumped a white fist on the dark stone lining the window. He whirled on his heel and stomped to the exit.  
"Master, where are you going?"  
"*We* are going to Tzen, that's where I'm going!" Kefka grabbed Kuja's wrist as be passed by. "I'm going to show you just how I deal with traitors!"

They appeared on the outskirts of town. Kuja thought, distractedly, that this was the same side of the town he had first entered Tzen through some months before. There were buildings smoldering, and a few were in flames. Kefka had apparently not hit the town very hard this time.  
Kefka stalked through the town, eyes ablaze. He was muttering and staring forward, looking for all the world like a man possessed. And perhaps he was, Kuja thought.  
They were heading in the direction of the town's sole mansion, the same one that Kuja had once had to Break his way out of. Had it really only been two months ago? It seemed like lifetimes had passed since then.  
People were running in a panic and screaming, fleeing from the direction of the mansion. Kuja could soon see why: the building was engulfed in flames. A few of the people, upon noticing Kefka, screamed anew and fled in a different direction. As they neared the mansion, Kuja could tell quite easily that it was on the verge of collapse. It all seemed to be leaning, sagging toward a single point. At that point was a man, torso and arms bulging with muscles, who was holding up the doorway of the mansion.  
"Kuja."  
"Yes, Master?"  
"Be on your best behavior for me."  
Kefka's words hit some hidden switch in Kuja's brain, one that he hadn't known existed. Automatically he stood a little straighter, squaring his slim shoulders and holding his head high.  
"Yes, Master."  
Kefka pushed past a small crowd that had grown near the burning building. There was a woman there, wailing loudly and quite pitifully about how her child was missing inside the mansion.   
The face of the man holding up the door frame was bright red. He was straining, and it didn't seem that he'd be able to continue holding up the building for very much longer. If the man let go of the door, the whole building would collapse.  
"Don't worry, ma'am, she'll be out in just a minute with him, you'll see!" The burly man was trying to comfort the hysterical mother even as he started to sag against the weight piled upon him. There was something vaguely familiar about the man's voice and his face, but Kuja couldn't quite place it.  
"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" Kefka's voice was loud and carried over the screams of the villagers and the crackling of the flames.  
The red faced man looked away from the mother. His electric blue eyes focused on Kefka, then widened in an almost comical fashion.  
"Kefka!" The man's single shouted word was enough to send the gathered crowd into a panic. They scattered, running like a flock of chocobos from some unseen monster. Soon all that remained were the man and the mother and Kefka and Kuja.  
"So, let me guess..." Kefka sneered at the man. "Dear little Celes has gone inside to play the hero? How noble." Kefka gestured at the man holding up the door. "Wouldn't it be a pity if her way out was blocked?"  
"Don't you dare, Kefka! You've caused enough trouble as it is!"  
"Oh, but I've only just begun to cause trouble for you little pests!"  
Sweat was pouring down the burly man's face. "Just you wait, Kefka! Your time is nearly up!"  
Kuja stared at the man. He'd heard someone else say something similar before... And then he remembered. In South Figaro, the King of Figaro had shouted similarly at Kuja while they fought. Kuja considered this. If the man wasn't so muscular, his face thinner, and voice not so deep, he could look a great deal like Edgar. Perhaps they were brothers?  
All the same, the man's words worried Kuja.  
"Why, Sabin, it looks like your hands are full. What are you going to do to stop me?" Kefka grinned with malicious delight as he stepped toward the muscled man. Kefka seemed little more than a slip of bright red and blond shadow compared to the hulk of man that was supporting the failing mansion. And yet there was no denying that Kefka was dangerous. Energy was rolling off of his back like massive invisible wings, and the force of it was enough to make Kuja wince.  
Kefka was nearly to Sabin, arm outstretched, when a scream sounded from within the building. A powerful Blizzard spell shot past between the man's side and the door frame. It struck Kefka directly in the chest. The spell fizzled on impact, but was still enough to make Kefka stagger backwards.  
"You little bitch!" Kefka screeched.  
A small boy, looking scared out of his wits, was squeezed through the space next to Sabin. He ran sobbing to his mother, who scooped him up and dashed away after casting a terrified look at Kefka. A moment later another figure appeared. It was a woman with blonde hair and blue eyes. She was covered in ash and coughing, but was glaring directly at Kefka.  
"Everyone out of the way!" Sabin shouted. He pushed away from the doorway, and the building began to collapse behind him.  
Sabin moved with surprising agility, launching himself at Kefka as he moved from the doorway. The smaller man leapt easily out of the way, his cloak fluttering as he landed on the next rooftop over.  
"Oh, come and get me, you big oaf!" Kefka stomped his foot and threw a fire spell at the woman. "Ever the hero, Celes!"  
"Ever the asshole, Kefka!" The blonde woman, Celes, drew a sword from the scabbard attached at her hip and used the blade to absorb the fire spell. "Come back down here and fight!"  
"Oh, I don't really think so," Kefka said, sneering. "If I come down you'll just stab me again, like the horrible traitorous bitch that you are!"  
"Only a complete fool would ever dream that I would even consider joining sides with you again, Kefka!"  
"He's more a clown than a fool," Sabin said, fists clenched in front of him.  
"Oh, I don't want you on my side, you wretched, spoiled brat!" Kefka was screaming now, a bit of color appearing on his cheeks. "I want you dead! Really really really dead!"  
"Fuck off, Kefka!" Sabin shouted. "You're the only one who's going to be doing any dying around here!"  
"And besides!" Kefka shouted, ignoring Sabin's taunt. "I already have a far better magical weapon at my disposal!"  
"We've already seen the Light of Judgment, Kefka!"  
"Oh, I wasn't talking about that," Kefka shouted. "I was talking about him."  
Kuja found himself being pointed at. Both Celes and Sabin looked in Kuja's direction.  
"That must be the rogue Esper that people have been talking about," Sabin said. Celes looked him curiously.  
"Is he really an Esper? Or perhaps just half like Terra?" Celes looked at Sabin, and then up at Kefka. "What the-?"  
Kefka had disappeared from the rooftop.  
"That sneaky bastard!" Sabin shouted.  
"Leave it to Kefka to be low enough to abandon his little pet here with his enemies," Celes said. She returned her gaze to Kuja, and the young man felt a chill.  
"Celes, what a pleasure," Kuja said, managing a smooth tone. He offered a half bow, never taking his eyes off of his Master's enemies. "To have heard my Master rant so much about you, his words did not do justice to your beauty."  
Celes faltered, glancing between Kuja and Sabin.  
"Celes, don't listen to him, he's just trying to play with your head!"  
"And you, Sabin, was it?" He offered another little bow. "You must be the brother of King of Figaro." He smirked. "Twins, even? The same stupid expression on two people is uncanny."  
If it was possible, the red color on Sabin's face darkened. "Shut up!"  
Sabin started at a run, fists up as he headed to Kuja. He came to a stop as Kuja tossed a Fire spell at him.  
"Shit, he really does know magic!" Sabin stopped, looking over his thick shoulder at Celes. She frowned.  
"Be careful with this one, he might really be an Esper."  
"I'm even better than an Esper," Kuja said, letting his voice drop to a purr. "I am the favorite of a god!"  
Sabin cringed, looking again to Celes. "What should we do?"  
"Just knock him out," Celes said with a sigh. "We need to find Kefka and deal with him."  
"Right." Sabin focused on Kuja again, folding his hands in front of him. "Say goodbye, you freak!"  
Sabin was much faster than his overgrown frame should have allowed him to be. He dashed at Kuja, who could do little more than brace himself for the hit. He squeezed his eyes shut, swallowing.  
"Master!" He could barely squeak out the word.  
"Gah!"  
Kuja gasped, opening his eyes in time to see Kefka materialize in front of him. He was holding a sword--in fact, he was holding the same sword that had been in Celes' hand only moments before. The blade skewered the charging man, and Sabin came to an abrupt stop a hairsbreadth in front of Kefka as he collided with the shimmer of a magical wall.   
"Sabin!" Celes was shouting even as Kefka let go of the sword and Sabin staggered backwards. She caught him, sagging under the weight of the much heavier man.  
"Celes, stop him," Sabin croaked. He coughed, blood appearing at the corners of his mouth.  
"Oh, my! I expected that to be messier!" Kefka let out a wicked giggle as Celes gave Sabin a shake. Celes looked up at him, blue eyes flashing.  
"You bastard!" Celes raised a hand. A blast of Blizzard came from her fingers. Kefka countered with a Fire spell. There was a massive explosion as the two spells collided, and Kuja had to shield his eyes. Steam curled around them, stinging his skin even more than the cold air once had. Kuja opened his eyes and leaned around Kefka. Celes was getting to her feet and pulling the sword from Sabin's middle. Kuja couldn't tell if the man was dead or alive, but the look on Celes' previously pretty face was was nothing short of murderous.  
He grabbed Kefka's sleeve, tugging on his arm. Kefka did not respond, his body was tense.  
Kuja's lips parted and he did the only thing he could.

They re-materialized somewhere outside of Tzen. Kefka staggered forward, letting out a surprised noise as the scenery changed. As soon as he realized what had happened, he turned on Kuja, furious.  
"Why did you do that?!" he screeched. "I was in the middle of a very important fight!"  
Kuja stared down at him. He could not think of a reason, could not think of an excuse. He just stared down at him, wishing he could put the feeling of dread that had overtaken him at the sight of Celes charging at them with her bloodied sword into words.  
"Didn't you think I could handle myself??"  
"I..."  
"I thought you were on my side, Kuja!"  
"I am!" Tears sprung to his eyes, though he did not know why. "Please, do not doubt me, Master!"  
Kefka glared up at him, and then looked back in the direction of Tzen. "I have to go back and finish my fight."  
"Please, don't!" Kuja took hold of his sleeve again, fingers clutching the olivine green fabric as if his existence depended on the contact.  
"Kuja, stop it!"  
He tensed, expecting to be hit. But no blow came. Kefka simply glared up at him.  
"I don't know what's come over you, Kuja," Kefka said. Some of the anger had faded from his voice. He reached up, nails brushing lightly against the hand that was gripping his sleeve. He looked away from Tzen, away from the flames and destruction he had caused yet again, and turned his gaze back in the direction of his Tower. "Alright, we'll go home. I can still kill her another day."

When they got back home to Kefka's tower, the mad god insisted that they take a shower to wash off light layer of soot and ash that had settled upon them while in Tzen. That was how Kuja ended up pressed against the cold tiles, Kefka grinding against him.  
"You did a good job back there," Kefka murmured against Kuja's shoulder.  
"I thought you were mad at me."  
"Oh, I was. But I've no reason to hold a grudge against you." Kefka nipped lightly at the pale skin of Kuja's shoulder, and then leaned back to grab a sponge from where it hung on a little hook on the wall.  
"I thought you were going to hit me." Kuja sighed softly as Kefka pushed the thick mass of silver violet hair over his shoulder and began to scrub at his back.  
"Why would I do that?"  
Kuja glanced back at him, and it was clear to him that the idea of hitting Kuja had never occurred to the older man.  
"That's what Garland used to do when I angered him." Kuja rested his cheek against the tile. Kefka scrubbed lower, and Kuja let out a faint gasp as the sponge brushed the base of his tail.  
"I would never hit you, Kuja," Kefka said in an even tone. "Such violence is better suited to those below us."  
"You really wouldn't? You didn't have the slightest urge to strike me?"  
The sponge paused, pressed lightly against his spine. "No, I didn't. I was just mad... I wanted to go back into Tzen and kill Celes."  
"There's time for that later, Master," Kuja whispered.  
"Is there?" The frown was audible in his voice. "I keep getting this feeling like they'll be coming for me soon." He sighed. "This awful sense of impending doom..."  
"You've felt it too?" Kuja turned to look at him face to face. "I thought it was just me."  
Kefka looked up at him for a moment, and then nodded. "Yes, I've felt it. It's been hard not to, really."  
"Master, I swear, I won't let them do anything do you."  
Kefka looked up at him, smiling kindly. "Kuja... You really don't have to keep calling me your Master."  
Kuja blinked, taken aback. He was unsure of how to respond to this. "M... Kefka, are you sure?"  
Kefka nodded, white face more somber than Kuja could ever recall seeing it before. "Yes, I'm sure. I... I release you from your bonds." He reached out, touching Kuja's right wrist. The manacle seemed to dissolve in the water, silver retracting in on itself and disappearing into the red stone. Kefka caught the stone with a sad smile. "You're free to go."  
"What?" The water pelting them suddenly felt very cold, even though it was still steaming. "What do you mean?"  
"You're free to go back to Gaia now, Kuja." Kefka shook his head slowly as he spoke. "I will not bind you to me any longer. I will not make you stay here, will not sentence you to whatever happens to me."  
"Master!" He could not help but cry out the word. "Is this because of what happened in Tzen? If so, I'm sorry!"  
"No, it's not because of that. I should have let you go a long time ago. It was selfish of me to keep you here."  
"You have every right to be selfish, you're a god!"  
"Be as that may, I... I can't keep tying you to my side anymore, Kuja." He swallowed, and looked ashamed. "I have to stop being a coward."  
"You're no coward!" Kuja took his hand, squeezing it tightly. "Please, don't throw me out, Master!"  
"Kuja, I told you--"  
"You set me free, fine. But then I have the right to call you whatever I please!"  
Kefka sighed softly. "My poor little foolish Esper."  
"I can't go back to Gaia now, not like this," Kuja said.  
"What do you mean?"  
"I meant it when I told you that you were a far better Master to me than Garland ever way. I *meant* it."  
Kefka stared up at him. "Then what will you do?"  
"I will stay by your side, Master. Kefka. Whatever you are, I will not leave! I will stay and defend you from those stupid pests that even now are plotting your undoing."  
"And when I am undone?"  
"I will not let you be undone, Kefka!"  
The icy blue eyes were wide, unbelieving. "And when I am undone?"  
Kuja swallowed. "Then I will be undone as well. But I swear, Master, I will do whatever I have to for you."  
"Why?"  
The word hung heavily in the small space between them.  
"Because something in my soul tells me that I must. And this soul was given to me, so I must obey it."  
“That’s not the real reason, is it.”  
Kuja swallowed again, hesitating. “I know not what else to say.”  
Kefka considered this, and then nodded. "So be it. I will not make you stay, and I will not make you leave. What you do is up to you."  
"Thank you, Kefka." Kuja leaned down and kissed him lightly. Kefka made a thoughtful noise.  
"Why don't we go dry off and get dressed? I've some wonderful things lined up for dinner."  
Kuja smiled. "Okay."

After the showering and dressing they sat in front of the mirror of Kefka's dressing table.  
"I want you to put my makeup on me," Kefka said.  
"What, why? You're perfectly capable of doing it."  
"I know." Kefka smiled, his lips a pale sunrise pink without their coating of lipstick. "But I want you to do it for me."  
"Well... okay." Kuja got the kit out. He was a little nervous about applying the other man's makeup. Sure, he had seen Kefka apply it himself dozens of times, but actually having to be the one to paint on the strange lines and dots was another matter entirely.  
Kefka was like a little white statue, sitting perfectly still with his face tilted up as though waiting for a kiss. Kuja had to stop himself from giving those lips what they seemed to be asking for.  
Line by line, he painted on the streaks of blood red that made up Kefka's usual appearance. To Kuja it felt like they were springing from the brush of their own accord. It felt instinctual, perfectly natural...  
"There. All done." Kuja smiled and leaned away. Kefka opened his eyes and looked in the mirror.  
"Uwee!" His face lit up in a way that Kuja had not seen for days. "Well, I'll be a moogle's uncle! I think you may be even better at this than I am!"  
Kuja blushed. "You're exaggerating."  
"I'm not!" Kefka grinned and picked up the other makeup kit. "Okay, now's my turn."  
It had been some time since Kefka had put Kuja's makeup on for him. The mage's touch was gentle as he carefully brushed the salmon pink around his eyes and across his lips.  
"You're beautiful," Kefka murmured. "I admit, I am rather glad you are staying for awhile longer. This place is so dismal without you."  
"I am your canary," Kuja whispered, opening his eyes when he heard the makeup kit click shut.  
"You are a canary that, having been caged too long, doesn't think to fly away when the cage door is left open."  
Kuja smiled, ducking his head to kiss Kefka's cheek. "Sometimes birds grow fond of their captivity."


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

Kuja did not leave Kefka's side. To be honest, he was afraid to leave it. He feared that if he looked away for too long he would blink and wake up, finding himself once more on Gaia. That the last two months had been nothing more than a strange dream. That he would be alone again, and that he would once more be subjugated to Garland's will.  
So he did not leave Kefka's side.  
Kefka did not leave the tower again. After the incomplete fight in Tzen, Kefka did not even return to the observatory. He was resigned, quiet, spending his time just lying in bed or down in the library sitting and listening to Kuja read aloud. The sudden strange shift in his personality troubled his young partner.  
“Master, why give in like this?”  
It took a moment for Kefka to respond. He looked up slowly, reaching to brush a loose lock of blond hair from his eyes.  
“I’m not giving in.”  
“You are,” Kuja said. He closed the book he’d been reading, and Kefka sighed.  
“I’m not, you don’t even know what you’re talking about.”  
“You’ve resigned yourself to dying, haven’t you?” Kuja frowned, getting up from the creaky wooden chair he’d been sitting in. “I told you, Master, I can’t let you do that!”  
“It’s not a decision for you to make. Besides, I’m not giving in.”  
“What, then?”  
“I’m just waiting for them to get here.”  
“Why not go out and find them? Cut them down like the others!”  
“That worked so well in Tzen, didn’t it?” Kefka snorted softly, crossing his arms over his chest. Kuja came over to him, straddling his lap and resting his hands on the older man’s thin shoulders. Kefka sulked up at him.  
“Master, I have faith in you. So why do you suddenly have none in yourself?”  
“I don’t know,” Kefka said. He sounded disgusted with himself. “I just can’t shake this gloom that’s overcome me. I do not wish to go back to the observatory. I do not want to see what is out there.” He shook his head. “Those insolent pests! No matter what I do, they persevere!”  
“That is what they were made to do. And you-” Kuja leaned down, pressing a kiss between the furrowed blond brows, “-you were meant to destroy them.”  
“And what were you made for?”  
“I was made for nothing on this world,” Kuja murmured, resting his head on Kefka’s shoulder. “Whatever I am in this world is entirely of new making.”  
“Do you really think so?”  
“I know so.” He wrapped his arms around Kefka’s neck, suppressing a sigh. “I know so, Master.”

The heroes arrived at dawn a week later. Kuja did not know that this was what it was when it began, but even as a strange noise pulled him from his sleep he knew that something was about to happen. Through the thick stone walls of the tower came a low thrumming noise, one that Kuja had not heard in quite some time. But to him, having been on both Terra and Gaia, the noise was unmistakable.  
An airship.  
Kuja sat up in the black bedroom, pulling the covers against his bare chest.  
“Master, wake up!”  
Kefka grumbled in his sleep, rolling onto his side. He did not wake up. Kuja reached, grabbing his shoulder and shaking it.  
“Kefka, please, wake up! They’re here!”  
Another mumble came from the older man, but still he did not wake. Kuja frowned, glaring into the darkness. He strained his ears, trying to hear something, anything beyond the distant hum of an airship’s engine. All that met his ears was a little snort from the man in bed next to him. For a moment Kuja smiled down into the darkness. Perhaps he’d rode his Master a little too hard before bed the night before...  
“Well, I’ll have to go roll out the red carpet for you, Master,” Kuja whispered. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to Kefka’s cheek. The older man sighed faintly in his sleep. “Don’t worry, Kefka. I will send then all off to hell before you even wake to realize you’ve missed it.”

He took the time to dress. Despite the fact that the airship’s engine was steadily growing louder with its approach, Kuja could not bring himself to rush. He would not go into this fight looking like he had just crawled out of bed, even if he had.  
“I still have a little dignity, dammit,” Kuja murmured. He looked at the white stripe of skin encircling his right wrist. “You saw it too, didn’t you, Kefka? Even though you removed the relic, it has already left a lingering claim on me.” Kuja smiled and kissed the pale strip of skin, and then finished dressing.  
By the time Kuja got to the roof of Kefka’s tower, the airship had arrived. It was hovering over the roof, a rope ladder dangling from its side to provide access for the four people who had jumped down. They cast long shadows in the early morning light. Kuja steeled himself against the frigid winter winds that snarled around the stones of the tower, and moved out of the shadows.  
He recognized two of the people immediately: Celes and Edgar. The third came into focus a moment later. The green haired woman could only been the half-Esper Terra that Kefka had once shown him. She was equipped with a sad look and a sword at her hip. The identity of the fourth person was a complete mystery to him. He had long tangled silver hair, and a face that was probably handsome underneath the myriad of scars that covered it. The silver haired man looked almost bored to be there, and was tugging the heavy black cloak that was draped over his shoulders closer to him.  
Celes stepped forward, apparently leading the little invasion expedition. Edgar was right behind her, looking both sad and angry at the same time.  
Celes looked just a bit crazy, Kuja thought. Had his abrupt ending of their fight bothered Celes just as much as it had Kefka?  
“What’s this? I expected to be greeted by our oh so benevolent god himself!” Celes shouted across the tower roof. It was the time of blood light now, and the tower’s intruders were cast in the red light of dawn. “Not by his stupid pet Esper!”  
“Not so loud, Celes,” Edgar said, whispered voice carried to Kuja by the wind.  
“I’ll be as loud as I want to!” Celes shouted. “I want that spineless bastard to come up here and fight with me man to man, and not run off like the fucking coward that he is!”  
The silver haired man snorted, turning away a bit and covering his mouth with the hand that wasn’t clutching his cloak.  
“What’s so funny, Setzer?” Edgar wondered.  
“Man to man,” the silver haired man said, snorting back another laugh. “My dear Maria, you are many things, but you’re no man!” He burst out into a low laughter. Terra sighed, shaking her head.  
“I told you we should have brought Cyan,” Edgar said. “At least he’s sober.”  
“Oh, shut up, the both of you!” Celes shoved Setzer out of the way and stalked in Kuja’s direction. “You little purple haired freak, what are you doing here? We’re here for Kefka!”  
“He’s a rather lovely purple haired freak,” Setzer said. He was helped back to his feet by Edgar.  
“Oh, be quiet, Setzer, before she hits you again.”  
“I offered you a drink too, and you turned it down,” the silver hair man said, looking a bit miffed.  
“And how much did you two have?”  
“Me, enough. Her? Well, just enough to make her a little crazy whenever Kefka is mentioned.” He shrugged. “No more than usual.”  
“I can’t believe you sometimes,” the king said with a sigh.  
“Hey, don’t get all snippy with me,” Setzer said. He pointed a gloved finger at Celes. “It was her suggestion. A drink to calm our nerves before we went to invade Kefka’s oversized, probably compensating for something tower.”  
“He’s not compensating!” Kuja shouted back into the wind.  
“Okay, not compensating, but still really big. And then there was that big freaking silver dragon that tried to eat my damn airship when we went to that other tower, and--”  
Setzer cut off as manic laughter echoed around the roof. It was Celes. Everyone present stopped to stare at her.  
“What’s so funny?” Edgar dared to wonder.  
“Oh, don’t you see?” Celes grinned maliciously at Kuja, but was speaking to the others around her. “Kefka has taken this... creature, as a lover!” She laughed again, and it was a twisted hollow sound that chilled Kuja. “That bastard, capable of love? Ha! He isn’t even capable of caring about himself, let alone loving anyone!”  
“You’re looking for the meaning of love, aren’t you?” The soft voice broke the spell cast by Celes’ shrieking. Terra had spoken, looking sadly at Kuja. “It’s a painful lesson, isn’t it?”  
“I know nothing of love,” Kuja said, nearly spitting the words. “I know only what I was created for, and only what my heart tells me.” He raised his hands, palms out. “And my heart is telling me that my Master will not rest until you are all dead!”  
His casting was interrupted by a cry from Edgar. “His bangle is gone!”  
“What?” Setzer and Celes looked to him.  
“Before, in South Figaro when we fought. He was wearing a magical bracelet!”  
Celes laughed as if this were the funniest joke ever told. “Imagine that! How pitiful!” She pointed her sword at Kuja. The light of dawn gleamed on the runes engraved into the blade. “This thing is no better than a dog kicked out and abandoned by its own master, and too stupid to do anything but wait in the street and wish to be reclaimed!”  
“Shut up!” Kuja shouted, tail lashing the underside of his coat. “You don’t have a clue of what you’re talking about!”  
“Just because someone takes care of you doesn’t mean they’ll never leave you!” Celes shouted. “Doesn’t mean they won’t abandon you and toss you out to die with the criminals when you say something against them!”  
Kuja glared at the blonde woman. He knew he was missing part of the story, but he really didn’t care to learn any more of it.  
“If you want to leave this place alive, you should go now!” Kuja shouted at them.  
“We couldn’t live with ourselves if we left now,” Setzer said. He had pulled a short sword out from under his cloak, and Edgar was shouldering his crossbow. “After all, we’ve all lost too much to him for that.” He looked up at the airship still hovering noisily overhead. “I lost my first airship because of that maniac.”  
“He killed my brother,” Edgar added.  
“He tried to ruin my life!” Celes snarled.  
There was a pause, and the three looked at Terra. The green haired woman blinked--she had been staring off at the blue sky.  
“We’ve all lost a lot because of Kefka,” Terra murmured. Her expression was sadder than Kuja thought it probably should be. Didn’t Kefka say she was supposed to hate him like Celes did? “And now, we have to fight because we... we have things to protect.”  
“Well, I have things to protect too,” Kuja said, raising his hands again. Even as the energy of the Fira spell left his hands, he saw the shimmer of Reflect in front of the whole party. “Ha, playing dirty again, I see?”  
“That’s the only way to play!” Edgar said as the spell bounced from person to person, and finally went hurtling back to its caster. Kuja quickly reached into the pocket of his coat. When he removed his hand, he held it out at the magnified spell. There was a flicker of light in Kuja’s palm, and the spell fizzled, collapsing on itself and disappearing into his hand.  
He was holding onto the red stone, and it gleamed with the fire spell as silver shot out from it and wrapped firmly around Kuja’s right wrist.  
“It took me weeks of paging through that library, but I found out just what the thing is good for!” Kuja laughed, flinging his hand back at the group. The magnified Fira spell exploded out of the stone, shooting across the roof in a fiery wave that sliced through the Reflect spells as if they were not there. Kuja grinned. The stone was actually an ancient relic called the Ifrit’s Claw. Kefka had used its natural wellspring of magic energy to his own means, but it was also a massive source of fire energy. Kuja had picked it up from Kefka’s dressing table.  
“Augh, so you think you can play with magic, do you?” Celes waved a hand. “Terra!”  
Kuja couldn’t help but smirk at the name as the green haired woman stepped forward. She folded her hands in front of her, murmuring. Then, with a scream that was somewhere between pain and fury, Terra changed. Her skin and hair all turned a pale purplish white and began to glow.  
The power of an Esper, Kuja thought. Terra began casting spells immediately, Thundaga followed by Firaga, and Kuja was forced to run. It was only when something sliced through the left leg of his trouser and skimmed painfully past his skin that Kuja realized that he’d been duped and was running right into a trap. Edgar had his crossbow leveled at the young man and was not hesitating to fire this time. Kuja swore under his breath, and, in a move he hadn’t actually been aware he was capable of, back flipped out of the line of fire. This took him back into the still exploding Firaga spell, but he concentrated as his feet landed back on the ground. The red stone on the manacle flashed and sucked in the fire around him. Kuja hurled the spell back at Terra, but Celes raised her sword as he did so. The runes on the blade glowed, and the Firaga flickered out, disappearing as if it had never been cast.  
Celes raised her left hand, casting Blizzara at Kuja. The young man raised his right hand, and the manacle let out a burst of flame that exploded into to steam as it made contact with the Blizzara spell. The air was filled with steam. It condensed quickly in the freezing air, but the moment it existed was enough for Celes to dart forward.  
“Shit!” Kuja had fallen for the same trick that he had saved Kefka from only days before. He turned in time to avoid a fatal wound, but still cried out as Celes’ sword stabbed into his left bicep. Kuja glanced around him as Celes cursed and pulled the blade free from his arm. Setzer was standing to the side, seemingly useless. Edgar was reloading his crossbow, and Terra was already preparing another Thundaga spell.  
“Shut up and die!” Celes snarled, swinging the runic blade at him even as it came free from his flesh. Kuja held up his right hand, and the blade clanged loudly against the silvery metal of the manacle.  
“Why don’t you follow your own orders?” Kuja shot back, swinging his right leg around and catching Celes in the stomach. He moved his right hand to his left arm as Celes fell, quickly casting a Cure spell to stop the bleeding there. On the other side of the tower there was an unearthly screech.  
“Thundaga!” Lightning lit up the rosy gray sky around him, crackling like needles across his skin and stabbing into his muscles. For a moment he couldn’t move, couldn’t see. When sensation returned to him, it was to feel the sharp sting of three crossbow bolts stabbing into his right shoulder. One of the bolts struck his shoulderblade, and he found he couldn’t move his right arm. He raised his trembling left hand to the bolt wedged into the bone, wincing as he tried to pull it free.  
Celes was back to her feet now and running at Kuja. He was unable to dodge this time, and Celes slashed at his exposed left side, just along the line of the bottom of his ribcage. That was not the worst of it, though. The worst of the pain came when Setzer appeared in front of him, and the blade of his short sword sliced into his belly.  
“Ack!” Kuja’s eyes widened. Setzer grinned as he wrenched the blade free.  
His attackers moved away, back to where Edgar stood and Terra seemed to float a few inches off the ground. Kuja sank to one knee, panting. This whole fighting thing really wasn’t very fair, was it? Four against one! He groaned, thinking hazily that Kefka had once warned him that the so called good guys never really fought fair, and so he would, in turn, have to fight just as unfairly. That was why Kefka had played tricks on them in Tzen...  
Why weren’t they attacking again? Were they waiting for him to bleed out and die on his own?  
Celes said something to Edgar, but the wind had slacked and Kuja could no longer hear their discussion. Edgar nodded and started to reload his crossbow. Kuja coughed, wiping a bit of blood from his mouth with his left hand, then lowered the messy digits to his stomach. The fabric there was warm and wet with blood. His blood. Kuja murmured another Cure spell. The pain subsided a bit, but he could tell the wound hadn’t closed completely.  
On the other side of the roof, Edgar leveled his crossbow. He said something to Celes, who nodded. A moment later a fresh stab of pain sprung to being in Kuja’s right arm. When the young man let out a yelp at the pain, an unmistakeable grin sprouted on Celes’ face. She turned back to Edgar, and even at the distance Kuja could tell what she was saying.  
“Do it again!”  
He realized, as he cried out at a second bolt joining the first in his arm, that they were not killing him straight off because he was much more useful to them alive and making noise.   
They were trying to flush Kefka out.  
The thought made something in Kuja’s mind twitch. Wasn’t he even worth a fair fight? They called Kefka coward for running from battle, but they were the cowards if they were afraid to see what this purple haired freak was made of! How dare they take him so lightly!  
“What the-?” On the other side of the roof, Edgar paused in firing as a terrible scream erupted from his target. Flames shot out from the silvery bracelet on his right wrist and licked up Kuja’s side. The bolts embedded in his skin were immediately incinerated and turned to nothing more than ash. The fire burned away the fabric covering his right arm, and Edgar could see that what should have been gaping wounds from the bolts looked as if they had been cauterized.  
“Well, you wanted it to scream, Celes,” Setzer murmured, wincing at the horrible sound coming from Kuja. Celes nodded, a satisfied look on her face.  
“His lips are moving, is he casting something?” Terra said, her voice still warped.  
“Like he can do anything for himself now!” Celes laughed. The sound died as Kuja raised his arms above his head, screaming the final word of the incantation.  
“Ultima!”  
A brilliant gold light spilled out from Kuja’s body, followed by streams of crimson that shot out from his outstretched palms. The group assembled watched with horrified fascination. All the castings of Ultima they had seen had been blue. Like the sea, like the sky, like the forces of life being twisted on themselves to cause destruction. But this Ultima was the red of blood and death. The red light of another world.  
The spell overtook them. There was nothing they could do. No spell could counter Ultima’s fury.  
When it had passed, and the sky ceased in its bleeding of color, those who could open their eyes saw that Kuja had dropped to his knees. He was panting, clutching at his chest, paler than anyone alive should be.   
Kuja gasped for breath. He had flattened his enemies, but at what price? His body could not move, would not respond. It was too drained of energy, of magic, to do anything else.  
On the other side of the roof, Celes pushed herself to her feet. She picked up her sword from where it had fallen when she succumbed to Ultima’s wrath.  
“Die, you fucking monster!” Celes screamed, charging across the stones of the rooftop. Kuja was unable to move, unable to defend himself, unable to do anything at all as the blade of Celes’ sword stabbed into his chest. He glared up at her as she pulled the sword away and his blood sprayed out into the cold morning air.  
Kuja wished he could get up, wished that he could fight back. Wished he could at least find the energy to claw Celes’ eyes out. But he could do none of that. He coughed, tasting blood again, and grimaced. His chest ached, heart ached, and longed for only one thing as he slumped to the ground.  
Kuja summoned he last of his strength and screamed out.

Later, Kefka would not be able to precisely remember what woke him up that morning. But something did, and as he lay confused in the dark he came to realize that he was alone in his bed. The spot next to him was only faintly warm. Where had Kuja gone?  
“Kuja?” Kefka called into the darkness.  
His query was answered by a rumbling from upstairs. Quiet followed, and then a scream ripped through the very stones of the tower and into his ears.  
“Kefka!!”  
It was pained and desperate. It was the voice of someone about to die.  
It was Kuja’s voice.  
Kefka threw himself out of bed, the bed’s red sheets still coiled around his waist. He ran up a dozen stairs like this before remembering that he didn’t have to. He teleported himself the rest of the way to the roof, the unusual sensation of fear gripping his chest as he did so. He was terrified both by what he might find there, and what he might not.  
It was morning, and the air was bitingly cold. The sky was its usual blue bowl overhead, but it was marred by the intrusion of an airship loitering in the space above the tower. Kefka glared up at it, and then looked back down.  
They were there, *there*, off to his right. Celes and Terra and that idiot Edgar and some silver hair git. They all looked a bit worse for wear, as if they had been fighting... Kefka blinked and turned his head, looking off to his left.  
“Kuja!”  
Ignoring the fact that Celes had spotted him and was drawing her sword, Kefka bolted to the south side of the tower roof. A figure dressed in indigo and grey was crumpled face down on the stones, surrounded by a spreading puddle of blood that was steaming slightly in the frigid air.  
“Kuja? Kuja!” The bed sheet trained behind Kefka as he ran to the younger man’s side. He rolled Kuja over and gasped. “Oh hell, what’ve they done to you?!” The front of Kuja’s coat was stained black with blood, and a sleeve was completely missing. As he undid the clasps on the front of the coat he found that the creamy white shirt underneath was completely soaked in blood. There were two big rents in the front, one over Kuja’s stomach, and another just below his sternum.  
He lowered his ear to Kuja’s chest, listening for anything. There was nothing he could hear; no rattle of breath or beat of heart. Kefka felt at Kuja’s wrist, but could find no pulse beneath the cold skin.  
“Kuja, wake up!” He cast Cure onto one of the wounds visible through the torn fabric, but the spell garnered no response. “Kuja!”  
“Oh, isn’t this touching, you and your little lover!” Celes’ voice carried through the wind, and Kefka looked up sharply at her.  
“You! You did this to him, you killed him!”  
“I put a few of the holes in there, I’ll admit,” Celes said, sword resting on her shoulder.  
“You stupid, immature, spoiled, loathsome little bitch!” Kefka pushed to his feet.  
“He always did have a way with words,” Setzer mumbled.  
“It was the perfect way to lure you out, don’t you think?” She smirked at him.  
“I hate you!” Kefka screeched. “I finally find something that makes me happy and you destroy it!”  
“It serves you right, Kefka,” Edgar said.  
“What do you know about anything serving anyone right?” Kefka shouted. “You’re all a bunch of hypocrites!”  
They stared at him as if he’d grown a second head. Or perhaps it was just because he was outside in near freezing temperatures, wearing nothing more than a bloodstained blood red bed sheet. The wind whipped at his long ponytail, making it flicker like a golden standard behind him as he stalked toward the group.  
“You’re always full of talk! You talk about how you’re going to help people, and about how dreams and hope and all that sap will make everything better, and how you have to protect all that rot for people!” Kefka’s pale eyes flashed, and Celes took a step back. “But in the end it’s just talk! You only really care about all that nonsense as long as it means something good for you!”  
“Kefka-”  
“Shut up!!” He threw his arms wide, and the wind suddenly stopped, and then shifted direction. The sheet fluttered out behind Kefka as he snarled. “You pathetic little insects, with your hope and your dreams and your love!! I will destroy them, and you, and everything you hold dear!”  
There was a strange tearing sound, and then a fine spray of blood filled the air behind Kefka. As it rained down onto the sheet, the air was refilled by a mass of black and gold.  
Wings.  
Six wings: two pairs of golden wings, feathered like those of a giant bird or even an angel, and a pair of black leathery wings below those that looked like they had been stolen from a demon. The wings unfurled, and Kefka rose into the air.  
“I will destroy everything!” He stared down at the fallen form on the ground. “Because in the end... there is only death. And so I shall deliver you all!”  
He cast Thundaga, and the spell raked across the entire roof indiscriminately: through lingering Reflect spells and across blood and those whose it had spilled from.  
“Terra!” Edgar was shouting.  
“I can’t!” Terra had transformed back into her human form after the fight with Kuja had ended. “Not yet!”  
“Shit!”  
Kefka laughed, staring down at them.  
“Don’t worry,” Celes said, looking over at Edgar and Setzer. “Kefka’s still just a mage, even if he’s got wings. Just keep Reflect up and we’ll be fine!”  
“Right!” Edgar nodded, reaching into his pack to get out more bolts for his crossbow.  
“Setzer, you can still remember how to cast Reflect, can’t you?”  
“Sure I can!” The silver haired man waved a hand. “Don’t worry about it.”  
“Well you’d better worry about it!” Celes snapped. “If we die because you did something stupid, I will make your afterlife hell, do you hear me?!”  
“Alright, Celes, calm down.”  
“Yes, please stay focused, Celes.” Edgar looked up at Kefka. The mad god was laughing still, wings stirring the air faintly as he floated several yards over their heads. The red bed sheet snapped in the wind and curled around his legs. “If we can get him down somehow, then we can take him out!” She turned her attention to Terra. “And hurry it up!”  
“Oh, be quiet, Celes, I can’t rush a trance!”  
“I wish we’d been able to find Locke,” Setzer mumbled. “Celes listened to him, at least.”  
Celes swore, raising her sword over her head to absorb a Firaga spell sent down by Kefka. “Shut up and pay attention, Setzer!”  
Kefka sneered down at them, and strange pulse of energy shot down from his body. The group realized, as he followed this painless attack up with another Firaga that scored a direct hit on all of them, that their Reflect spells had been canceled out.  
“Setzer!”  
“On it!” He was murmuring the Reflect spell.  
“Shoot him in the wings!” Celes snapped at Edgar. She pointed her sword up at Kefka as she began to cast Flare. Edgar did as he was told, shooting a full round of bolts at the massive feathery wings.  
“Uwee hee hee, is that all you can do?” Kefka spun gracefully away from both the bolts and the fiery orbs of Flare that followed them. “If you’re not going to bothering aiming, then you don’t need to see!” He cackled. The sky behind him grew as pale a blue as his eyes, and then a flash of blinding light shot across the rooftop. The group cried out as they were blinded, grabbing at their eyes.  
“Edgar, I need a bit of help over here!” Celes shouted. Edgar swore, hands fumbling around blindly in the pack at his hip.  
“I can’t help you if I can’t see myself, hold on!” His fingers felt along the surface of little bottles as he tried to find the right one.  
Kefka laughed giddily, and fire continued to rain down on them. Setzer swore as he swatted out flames that sprouted on his cloak.  
“Next time I’m staying on the damn airship, let Cyan screw around with the clown!”  
“Setzer, shut-”  
“Got it!” Edgar grinned as he found the bottle he was looking for. He uncorked the bottle and downed the contents. “Augh, but the remedy’s always foul tasting...” Edgar squeezed his eyes shut, and when he reopened them he was relieved to be able to see again. He looked up. Kefka had turned, and was staring up at the airship.  
“Edgar!”  
“Just a second!” Edgar raised the crossbow, aiming at the bit of white skin visible between all the wings on Kefka’s back. The he blinked and lowered his gaze. Was it just him, or was the body on the ground not quite dead? He stared at it for a moment.  
There. He wasn’t imagining things, the fingers on the body’s right hand were flexing against the ground. “Oh, no you don’t!” He fired a bolt into the muscles just above the right wrist. The hand stopped moving, but the noise of the crossbow had caught Kefka’s attention.  
The pale eyes flickered to the body and the bolt jutting from the exposed arm.  
“What’re you doing?!” Kefka screeched. He swooped down, and Edgar corrected his aim. He fired a round into Kefka’s chest, but even as the bolts struck and stabbed in the mad god did not stop. At the last moment he whirled, and the tip of a center wing struck Edgar in the jaw. His head whipped around, and there was a snap. Kefka’s nails latched onto the front of Edgar’s coat, hoisting him into the air even as the king’s body began to sag.  
“Good-bye, Edgar, you fucking pinhead! I’ve waited a long time to do this!” Kefka turned gracefully in the air, hair and sheet streaming in an arc behind him. He released his grip on Edgar, and the king of Figaro went sailing, disappearing over the side of Kefka’s tower.  
“Edgar?” It was Terra’s voice, soft and fearful. “Edgar?!”  
“Uwee hee hee hee haaa!” Kefka laughed wildly. “Alright, who’s nex--aaah!” A scream came from Kefka as a blade ripped into him from above, tearing an arc down from his right shoulder and down his right side. “What the hell?!”  
“Kefka!” A new voice, coming from a man with black hair who landed heavily on the stones next to Celes. “I cannot allow you to continue this!” The man flicked blood from his sword, returning it to its scabbard.  
“Cyan!” Setzer cried out. “Help us, quickly!”  
The aged defender of Doma was quick to cast a healing spell on Celes, who helped Terra while he healed Setzer. Above them, Kefka was screaming and swearing even as he pressed a Cura spell to the tear in his side.  
“Where’s Edgar?” Terra turned on the heel of her boot, looking around. “He’s gone!” She looked up at Kefka. “Why? Why did you kill him?!”  
From above, several drops of blood rained down, splattering on the beautiful pale face of the body that was still angled to stare with closed eyes up at the sky.  
“Do not touch what is mine!” Kefka screamed.  
“Another king killed by Kefka’s hand,” Cyan murmured. “This has gone on long enough!”  
“My thoughts exactly,” Celes said, scowling at Kefka as the winged madman hovered low to the ground over Kuja’s body. The blond man was murmuring, and a strange sound came from his throat as he moved in a small circle, the train of his sheet covering the body’s face.  
He was crying.  
The white feet touched the ground, and Kefka knelt next to Kuja. He reached out, long red nails touching the sheet gently and moving it. Terra was the only one at the right angle to see what he did--the others were all behind him and could not see when the white face lowered to the pale one. They did not see the blood red lips lower to touch the cold ones stained with blood.  
“Do not worry, my poor beautiful esper,” Kefka said softly. “I will make them all pay for what they’ve done to you.”  
Terra stared, taking in the strange kiss with widened eyes. Behind Kefka, Celes and Cyan were exchanging glances. Celes jerked her chin at the expanse of half masted wings that was exposed to them.  
“Get him,” she mouthed. Cyan nodded.  
“For Doma!” He cried, dashing at Kefka with his katana in hand.  
“Oh!” A soft, peculiar gasp came from Terra “Cyan, stop!”  
But it was too late. Kefka was still rising from his stooped position when Doma’s last retainer struck him from behind. He let out a choked laugh as the blade of the katana sliced through his thin frame. There was the sickening crack of ribs splitting as the blade emerged on the other side. The wings unfurled in a spasm of motion, throwing Cyan aside and lifting Kefka back into the air. He panted, reaching behind and pulling the sword from his back.  
“You stupid old bastard!” Kefka screamed. He flung the katana away, and it clattered to the stones on the other side of Kuja’s body. Cyan was getting back to his feet, and Kefka snarled, striking him full on with a Blizzaga spell. “Don’t even think about retrieving that!” Kefka whirled in the air, glaring at the other three people standing there.  
Setzer was staring up at him dumbly, short sword in hand. Terra’s look was sad, and she looked like she wished she could be anywhere but there at that moment. Celes, on the other hand, had a murderously victorious look on her face.  
“I will destroy all of you!” Kefka screamed, throwing his arms and wings wide. Another shower of blood splattered down onto the rooftop. “Ultima!!”   
The spell flattened Setzer and Terra, and rendered Cyan further immobilized. The only one left standing was Celes.  
“You always had to be different,” Kefka snarled at her. “You always had to be special! Well, guess what, you’re not really that fucking special, Celes! Uwee hee hee!”  
“Blizzaga!” The ice coalesced around the tips of Kefka’s wings, and he faltered in the air.  
“Ooh, I hate you so much!” He screeched. “I hate hate hate--”  
“Blizzaga!”  
“--hate hate hate--”  
“Blizzaga!”  
“--FUCKING HATE YOU!”   
“BLIZZAGA!”   
The weight of ice on Kefka’s wings grew too immense, and a snap sounded in one of the great feathered limbs. He cried out in pain and alarm as he crashed to the ground. Celes laughed.  
“Finish him off, Celes!” Cyan groaned.  
“Oh, don’t ruin my moment!” Celes paced, slowly circling the fallen god. Kefka was on his knees, panting and coughing up blood. The crossbow bolts still poking out from the bruising white skin of his chest moved with each breath. Somewhere between those bolts and Cyan’s katana, his lung had been punctured. The fact that a mage’s body was not physically resilient was catching up with him very quickly.  
“All my life, as long as I can remember, I’ve always been under your thumb!” Celes shouted down at Kefka as she circled him. “Even after I became more powerful than you, became a fucking general, you still ordered me around and treated me like a child!” She stopped behind him, raising her runic sword. “Well, I’m done with that!” She threw her head back and laughed loudly.  
“You... bitch...” Kefka wheezed, body shuddering.  
“Say hello to Emperor Gestahl in hell for me!” Celes shouted. She began to swing the sword down, but stopped, a choked gasp escaping her throat as the blade of another sword suddenly emerged from her windpipe.  
It was Cyan’s katana, and it was in the hands of a living corpse.  
“Say hello to him yourself, you bitch,” Kuja croaked. Celes’ eyes rolled back, and she slumped to the ground. In front of her, Kefka collapsed. There was an explosion of feathers and flesh as the wings disintegrated on his back. “Kefka!”  
“Kuja?” The fallen god’s voice was very faint, and Kuja had to kneel and bend low over him to hear. “Are you... alive?”  
“You know me, Master,” Kuja said, voice still thick. “I’m too stupid to be good and stay dead.” He coughed, wiping a bit of blood from the corner of his lips.  
“I’m glad...” Kefka smiled, closing his eyes.  
“Oh!” Terra let out a cry of alarm as the tower began to shake beneath them.  
“Everybody off!” Setzer said, running over to Cyan and helping the older man up. “Come on!”  
“What about Celes?” Cyan protested.  
“She’s dead, hurry up!”  
The heroes ignored their enemies as they hastily made their way back to the airship. The only one to pause was Terra, who stopped briefly and looked over her shoulder. She made a move as if to go help, but then someone called her name and she turned and ran for the airship’s ladder.  
“Master... Kefka...” Kuja touched his shoulder. “Please, don’t leave me!”  
“You have to go,” Kefka whispered.  
“What?” Kuja shook his head. “Not without you!”  
“Go back... to Gaia...” He smiled again. “...and live...”  
“Not unless you go with me!”  
“I’m... sorry.”  
The shaking grew worse. Kuja got to his feet on legs that were as unsteady as the stones beneath him were becoming. “Master, wait for me!”   
Kuja turned and ran. Stone slipped from the walls as he made his way inside and down the stairs. The observatory was dark as he passed it by--the Light of Judgment had gone out. He continued down the stairs as quickly as his legs would take him, until he reached the dressing room. Kuja recovered his bag, and then went to the dressing table. He was not sure what made him do it, but he grabbed both makeup kits and shoved them into the bag.  
“Oh, where is it, I need it...” Kuja could feel his energy flagging as he rooted through the other drawers of Kefka’s dressing table. He had absorbed just enough magic from Kefka’s Cure and Thundaga spells to get him going again, but his body was still too weak to keep going on its own. “Aha!” He cried out in relief as he found Kefka’s hidden stash of potions. There were several elixirs, and Kuja deposited all but one of them into his bag. The contents of the bag clinked as he shouldered it and got back to his feet. Kuja unstoppered the last flask of elixir and downed its contents. The energy gave him a rush. He picked up the dark red cloak that was draped over the dressing table’s bench, not caring how bloodstained it would get as he hugged it against his chest. Kuja looked around the room, but there was not time to find anything else.   
He teleported back to the rooftop.  
“Kefka?” The younger man darted over to where his elder still lay, unmoved from where he had left him moments before. “I’m back, I’m back!” He crouched next to Kefka. “Tell me, why is the tower coming apart?”  
Kefka’s pale eyes slid open, and he stared unseeingly at the stones beneath his head. “The magic.... is... leaving...” He coughed and closed his eyes again.  
“Leaving? But I thought you were the magic!”  
“I stole all the magic, and now the magic is leaving me...” A weak smile came to the red lips. “Soon this world will be truly dead.” Kefka’s left hand moved, and Kuja reached out to take it in his own. “That’s why you have to go, before it’s too late.”  
“I’m not leaving you behind, Kefka,” he said, squeezing the white hand between his own. “I told you, I’m going to take you back with me.”  
“Back?”  
“To Gaia!”  
The blond brows furrowed. “That’s no place for me...”  
“Then I will make it a place for you!” He reached down, brushing at stray blond hairs that had come loose from Kefka’s ponytail. “I can’t live without you anymore, Master. I need you.”  
Kefka’s voice was a whisper. “I thought you were dead.”  
“I think I was.” Kuja smiled down at him. “But you saved me, Master. I owe... I owe everything to you now.”  
Kefka was quiet for a moment. Overhead, there was a blast of hot air in the frozen morning, and the airship began to move away.  
“Do you mean it?”  
“What?”  
“Will you really... help me?”  
Kuja offered another smile, even though Kefka’s eyes were still closed. “It’s only fair, isn’t it? You save me, I save you... Then we’re even.”  
The white fingers curled against Kuja’s moved slightly. “Then go, hurry... Downstairs, in the observatory. Go down to where the Light of Judgment was...”  
“Master, the light has gone out.”  
“I know.” A faint smile. “There should be a stone there. Please, go get it. I can’t... I can’t live without it.”  
“What-”  
“Just get it, there isn’t time for explanations now!” Kefka’s voice rose, and then broke off into coughing.   
Kuja asked no more questions, he simply draped the cloak over Kefka’s shoulders, set his bag next to him, and ran back down the stairs. Down in the observatory it seemed darker than before. Despite the growing light of morning, the sky outside seemed to be losing its luster. Kuja made his way to the center of the room. He winced, nearly doubling over as pain shot through him anew. His hand went to his chest--his wounds were bleeding again.  
“Not much time,” he murmured, looking around in the dim room. A glimmer amongst the fallen stones caught his eye, and Kuja stooped to reach for the source. He gritted his teeth against pain, and his fingers closed around a small, perfectly round stone. It gleamed at his touch, and had the luster and sheen of a rose colored pearl. Kuja gasped as he touched it. “Oh, god, this is--”  
The windows of the observatory shattered around him. Kuja let out an involuntary scream, and then, clutching the stone to his chest, hurriedly made his way back to the rooftop.  
He was shocked to find that Kefka had pushed himself into a seated position. He was rocking back and forth in place, but looked up as Kuja stumbled out of the stairwell.  
“Hurry,” he called softly. Kuja ran toward him, holding out the stone. The rooftop lurched underneath his feet, and Kuja stumbled. He nearly dropped the stone, but caught it again and closed the rest of the distance to Kefka’s side.  
“This is what you wanted, right?”  
Kefka nodded weakly. He took the stone, hugging it to himself. The stones shuddered beneath them again. Above, the sky was slowly bleeding out to a washed out white. If Kuja hadn’t known better, he would have thought they were losing altitude. He gasped with the realization: the tower wasn’t just shaking, it was collapsing. They had run out of time.  
Kefka’s weak voice sounded in Kuja’s ear, over all the din of falling stones. “Whatever magic you were going to do, do it quick!”  
Kuja frowned. He needed to do the Zona Shift, but this was no place to do it. There was no time, no place to draw a magic circle, and he didn’t even have all the magic stones he needed! He tried not to notice Kefka’s subdued expression as he opened his bag and felt through it. He took out another elixir and down its contents, tossing the bottle aside. It shattered inconsequentially on the stones beside him. Kuja shoved his hand back into the bag, feeling around desperately.  
“What?” His fingers closed around several stones that had gathered at the bottom of the pack. He pulled them out, staring at them stupidly. Two he recognized as the pieces of quartz he’d brought with him. The others were a mystery, until he remembered: they were four small magic stones that he’d picked up when he’d opened the chest containing the dragon charm that was still pressing against his chest. He had paid them little attention at the time, but now he saw them for what they were.  
Ruby, emerald, amber, and aquamarine.  
Kuja laughed softly, feeling a bit dazed. They had been here since his birthday, his little tickets back to Gaia, and he hadn’t even realized it!  
There was a loud groaning and grinding of stones beneath them, and there was no denying now that the tower was slowly collapsing.  
“We’re going to have to test just how well you’ve taught me...” Kuja took the stone from Kefka and tucked it away safely into his bag. He set two of the stones into Kefka’s hands, and held the others in his own. “Hold onto me, Master, I don’t need to lose you again.”  
“Nor I you,” Kefka mumbled, wrapping his arms around the younger man’s narrow waist. He sagged, resting his forehead on Kuja’s bloodied chest. Kuja closed his eyes, calling up the words that had brought him to this dead world many weeks before.  
Part of him was surprised when he felt the Zona Shift activate. The world pulled and shifted around them. The pressure of the magic on him was too great, and for a moment Kuja blacked out.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

When his senses returned, the first thing Kuja was aware of was warmth. Not the warmth of blood or the stinging warmth caused by pain, but a genuine warmth. He rubbed his fingers together, and found that the stones he had been holding were gone. Kuja blinked his eyes open.  
Sunlight.  
He sat up quickly, and immediately wished that he hadn't. His head throbbed, and the wounds on his chest and arms ached horribly. "Still alive," he muttered to himself. "Oh!" Kuja looked around. Sometime during the Zona Shift, he and Kefka had been separated. The older man was on the ground a few feet away, lying on his back with his face up to the sky.  
Kuja looked up at the sky. It was blue and clear, with a few puffy white clouds dotting here and there. Far off to what Kuja believed to be the south there was a haze, like a malicious fog.  
Mist.  
Kuja smiled. They were back on Gaia.  
"Never thought I'd be glad to be back here..." Kuja crawled over to Kefka. He was pale as ever, but when Kuja held his hand over the man's parted lips, he felt the faint puff of breath.  
"Wake up, Master," Kuja said softly. When he got no response, he reached out and gently touched the white forehead. "C'mon, wake up!"  
Kefka's hands were empty, but the fingers on his right hand were still making a clenching motion. Kuja remembered the strange pearly stone that he'd taken from Kefka just a few minutes ago. It had been just a few minutes ago, hadn't it? He had no way of knowing just how long he had been unconscious after the Zona Shift.  
Kuja opened his bag, rooting around until he came upon the round stone. It had settled to the bottom. The stone shimmered pink in the sunlight as Kuja pulled it out.  
"Here you go, Master." Kuja gently set it in Kefka's hand. A noise, almost happy, squeaked out of Kefka's throat. Kuja leaned down and rested his ear just over Kefka's lips.  
"Help me sit up," Kefka said, voice barely a whisper.  
"Are you sure?"  
"Yesss..."  
Kuja helped him into a seated position. Kefka looked down at the stone in his hand.  
"Would you like an elixir?" Kuja asked. "I.. I took the ones you had stashed away in your dressing table."  
Kefka blinked slowly, eyes moving to look at him while the rest of his body remained still.   
"It might make you feel better, help you start healing."  
"....okay."  
Kuja retrieved one of the elixirs. He scooted over to Kefka and helped him lean back enough to down the contents of the bottle. A flash of warmth flickered over Kefka's cold skin as he swallowed, and he let out an audible sigh.  
"Thank you," he said softly. "That feels better already."  
They were quiet for a few minutes, Kuja looking up at the blue sky, and Kefka staring down at the stone in his hands.  
"Master?"  
"Hmm?"  
"Are you mad at me?"  
"I'm furious!" Kefka croaked, looking up at him. "Why did you go out there and fight them on your own?"  
"You wouldn't wake up," Kuja said sheepishly. "I tried, but you wouldn't wake up."  
Kefka sighed. "And so you would've died, so you did die, if I'm to believe what I saw, just because I wouldn't wake up?"  
"Well, yes... Perhaps we shouldn't fuck before bed anymore."  
"I'm not fighting anymore, what do I care?" Kefka ran his nails over the surface of the stone. Kuja blinked.  
"You're not?"  
"No."  
"What about destroying every world we come across, and all that?"  
Kefka frowned. "Maybe later. I don't feel much like it right now."  
"Well, that's okay." Kuja smiled. "We can rest." He reached out and stroked Kefka's hair. "Would you like another elixir?"  
Kefka nodded, and Kuja moved to get him another.  
"Tell me something, Kefka."  
"Hmm?" Kefka held the bottle up, turning it in the sunlight.  
"That stone, from the Light of Judgment. What's so special about it?"  
"It's my soul," Kefka murmured.  
"Your soul??"  
"Yes." He looked at it. "Well, part of it. That's why I couldn't leave it behind."  
"I don't understand. Why would you do that to yourself?"  
"What?"  
"Split your soul."  
"Well, you see..." Kefka paused, coughing into his hand. There was blood in his palm when he pulled his hand away, and he nonchalantly wiped it off on the grass next to him. "When I became a god, I absorbed so much magical energy that I couldn't contain it all myself. So I put part of it into here..."  
"How do you join the pieces of your soul back together?"  
"I'm not sure," Kefka admitted. "But as long as I keep the Light with me, I should be okay."  
Kuja nodded. "We won't lose it.”  
He smiled faintly. "Good. I've already lost everything else, so I'd hate to lose part of my soul too."  
Kuja chuckled. "You haven't lost everything, Master. You still have me."  
"Mm, this is true." Kefka dropped back onto the grass, his pale eyes staring up at the sky. "Tell me, Kuja, where are we?"  
"Back on Gaia," Kuja said. He looked around. "I'm not entirely sure where exactly on Gaia we are, but I know that we're on that planet, at least."  
"How do you know?"  
"The Mist?"  
"The what?"  
"The Mist... it's... like a fog made up of bits of souls." Kuja sighed, flopping back next to him. "It's a long story, Master, and I don't feel like going into it right now."  
"Is it related to Garland?"  
"Mm-hmm."  
"Then it doesn't really matter right now."  
"Nope." Kuja reached over and took Kefka's free hand. "I know you released me, but you're still the only Master I want to follow now."  
"That's good to hear," Kefka said lazily. "When we're both healed up, then... Then we'll kill Garland."  
Kuja smiled. "I look forward to it."  
Kefka shifted his weight and groaned. "But that will have to wait a few days."  
"It's okay, I'm not in a rush." 

At first, they had no inclination to go anywhere or do anything. The first night they slept out under the stars, and that was good. In the morning the sunrise woke Kuja, and he was hungry. So he got up and walked, looking for something to eat. It wasn’t exactly the best plan, but it wasn’t really much of a plan at all so Kuja didn’t worry about it. He was surprised to find that they were only about a mile from the ocean. He managed to scrounge up something to eat and took it back to where he had left Kefka. Kuja used a Water spell to fill the empty elixir bottles, and a Fire spell to cook the fish he had snagged by stunning them with a Thunder spell. It felt strange to use magic for such basic things, but at the same time it pleased him to be able to do so. He’d used up most of his magic energy the night before casting Cure on his wounds, so he was happy to find that sleeping had regenerated as much energy as it had.  
Kefka had groused about not liking seafood, but had eaten the fish anyways.  
That afternoon they moved closer to the ocean. Kefka was still unsteady on his feet, and so the journey took almost until sundown. Once the older man was settled, Kuja collected all of their bloodied clothing and washed it out in the ocean. He got out as much of the blood as he could, then rinsed it all off with another Water spell, and partially dried it with a weak Wind spell. Again, he he spread out the red bed sheet for them to sit on, Kuja became aware of the fact that he was very deliberately using magic to do things.  
“It helps you to remember you’re alive,” Kefka said when Kuja brought up the subject over a dinner of some strange large fish that had been attracted by the blood in the water when Kuja had been doing the laundry.  
“I never really used magic before,” Kuja said softly. The night air was cool, but not so cold that Kuja wished he had finished drying his ruined clothes instead of spreading them out on the rocks to completely dry. Besides, Kefka was warm next to him now, and that made things more tolerable.  
“Well, I guess roughing it is as good a time as any to start.” Kefka smiled, his face white and strange without its makeup.  
“When you’re better, we can see about finding a way to get back to the Desert Palace,” Kuja said.  
“What’s that?”  
“It’s where I lived before I went to Pondera,” Kuja said. He flopped back on the sheet, stretching his arms over his head and staring up at the dark sky. Kefka followed suit, curling against Kuja’s side. He was shivering faintly, and so Kuja pulled the edge of the sheet up over him. “When we get there, we can sit down and figure out what we’ll do next.”  
“Sounds good to me.” Kefka yawned.

After two more days of Cure spells and roughing it, Kefka was able to walk again. Most of their wounds were healing, even the ones that would have killed lesser people. To celebrate Kefka’s re-found mobility, they decided to wade out into the ocean. Neither was really strong enough yet to go swimming.  
It was mid-day, and with the sun blazing overhead the water was warm. Kuja waded out first, up to his waist, checking for any malicious sea critters. The salty sea water stung at the remnants of his wounds, but he did not mind it all that much. It was the sting of recovery, the sting of being alive.  
“I wonder what we’ll do now?”   
Kuja stared out over the dark open waters and at the distant fog of Mist to the south. He turned to look at Kefka, whose thin body was weaving back and forth with the motion of the water. He smiled.  
It was a brilliantly sunny day on a forgotten shore. The kind of day where people just wanted to lie out in the sun, soaking up its pleasant warmth and forget about the horrible things that had happened in some distant, dead winter. It was the kind of day, actually, that Kuja was starting to think he could enjoy.

End


End file.
